Boundless as the Sea
by Carolina Nadeau
Summary: Harold and Marian take a much-needed second honeymoon trip to the shores of northern California in the spring of 1919… and the librarian is thrilled to finally explore beyond the horizons that have always enclosed her. A series of fluffy vignettes.
1. Beyond the Sea

_My bounty is as boundless as the sea,_

_My love as deep. The more I give to thee,_

_The more I have, for both are infinite._

_~ Romeo and Juliet _(2.2.133-35)

xxx

_In the wilderness, I find something more dear and connate than in streets or villages._

_In the tranquil landscape, and especially in the distant line of the horizon, man beholds somewhat as beautiful as his own nature._

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson,_ "_Nature_"_

xxx

When she thought about it, Marian could barely believe it was true – after spending her entire life thus far deep within the prairies of Iowa, she was moments away from seeing the ocean for the first time.

As much as she'd always been perfectly content just where she was, a woman as well-read as she was couldn't help but dream of faraway places – and she'd been fortunate enough to end up with a husband who was happy to live with her in their cozy house in Iowa but still no stranger to travel and excitement.

Harold had promised her years ago that he would bring her to the ocean someday, but when he'd announced this trip to her at Christmas, Marian couldn't have been more shocked. Their children were still so young that she'd figured that it would be years before she and Harold could do something as frivolous as traveling for non-band-related purposes, and at first she'd doubted if doing so would really be wise. But in truth, this opportunity had, in a certain way, arisen at the perfect time – in fact, it felt almost necessary.

The past couple of years had been shrouded in a sort of storm cloud of worry and fear – while many of River City's young men were off in Europe risking their lives in the war, even those at home could not feel safe while the threat of Spanish influenza menaced the world. Even though happier moments could still be found in those troubled times, it was hard to forget what was happening when there was nearly always a dark, distant expression on the face of at least one person that one encountered each day – though Marian was fortunate enough not to be in such a position herself, so many people she knew had a son, a husband, an uncle or a brother at war, or were anxiously awaiting some sign of improvement of a sick relative or friend. Gloomily, she'd wondered if anybody would ever again know what it felt like to truly relax and feel at peace.

But things were finally looking up these days, at least for those who had not had their lives permanently altered by these events – and somehow, by the grace of Providence alone, nobody among their circle of family and friends had been lost. Over the past winter, the boys had come home from Europe little by little, and at the same time, the reports of disease from near and far had mercifully slowed to a halt as well. By the time spring came, it was like the nation was able to breathe a collective sigh of relief – and the librarian and music professor were both ready to learn how to be carefree once more.

The day-to-day exhaustion of parenthood would have taken enough of a toll on Harold and Marian if the world _hadn't_ been in turmoil, but the additional stress brought on by these universal misfortunes had subdued the romance in their lives even further. They had clung close together every night, but much more rarely sought the opportunity to make love – though their feelings for each other had not lessened in the least, for a time it seemed that they had lost the ability to let go and revel in each other as they used to. Even with the person that one adores above all others, it was difficult to surrender to joy and desire when one always has a knot in one's stomach, Marian reflected. They had gotten into the habit of loving each other for comfort and security, but not simply to delight in bringing each other pleasure.

In recent months, as their long-held fears had finally faded away, they _had_ managed to rekindle their passion, but both of them also knew that this trip would be just what they needed to solidify their reconnection for good – a true new beginning, a true second honeymoon. Alone together in a beautiful and exciting new place, they could simply learn how to _be_ again – to be a man and woman madly in love with nothing, real or imagined, to keep them apart.

When he'd long ago promised to take her to the ocean, Harold had never given her any indication of where he thought they might go. Certainly, there was a staggering array of choices, so Marian was puzzled – but excited, too – to learn that he had decided upon Sonoma County, California, a place that she had never even heard of, much less thought of visiting. Harold had never been there before, either – practically a requirement for any place they could dare to travel! – but he promised her that he'd done quite extensive research and chosen the northern Californian coast for its wondrous variety of natural beauty and what seemed to him like a wonderfully romantic atmosphere.

Getting there had been an adventure in itself – eye-opening, but certainly not relaxing. The librarian had seen mountains and desert for the first time in her life, and had been delighted and fascinated at this introduction to the wide world that lay outside Iowa, but even such novelties tended to look bleakly monotonous when hour after hour of the same landscapes passed them by outside the windows of the train. Marian supposed that it was a testament to their partnership that they had been able to make it through several days of nearly nonstop travel without ending up unable to stand the sight of each other. The thrill of being completely alone together and free of all obligations for the first time in years had probably helped quite a bit, though!

Now Marian could understand, for the first time, the appeal that living on the road must have once held for Harold – she certainly wouldn't have wanted to live that way _permanently_, but it was incredibly exciting to watch the world around her change day by day, never knowing what sort of place they might see next. More than once she'd wondered what they might have been able to find in certain places if they'd had the liberty to stay there. Still, she never felt too wistful for the locales they had to pass by – as stunning as they could be, her heart was set on the ocean.

Barely a ten-minute walk from the shore, their hotel room was unlike any Marian had ever seen, about as far from the Victorian style as any room could be. The walls and floor had the look of weathered wood, but, as this was quite a fine hotel, the librarian suspected that they were rather deliberately so. High angled ceilings, huge windows pouring in light, and immaculate white linen on the bed and flowing curtains made the room feel wonderfully open and spacious – it was the kind of place where one could be truly, utterly carefree, Marian thought, and she fully intended to be.

Just not right now.

It was really saying something that _anything_ could draw the Hills out of that hotel room at that point. After a couple of nights spent in the relatively comfortable but still cramped sleeping quarters in their train compartment, the huge, comfortable bed looked extremely inviting – for sleeping purposes as much as for amorous ones! – but even on the way from the train to the hotel, they'd been able to smell the salt on the air, hear the seagulls calling and the waves crashing, and Marian knew that she simply couldn't wait any longer to finally see the ocean that she'd dreamed about for so long.

In truth, it had been a close call. Harold was fully aware that his wife wanted to head down to the ocean as soon as they had divested themselves of their luggage, but the temptation of the room, the bed, the solitude, proved to be too much. When she sat on the edge of the bed – just to see what it felt like, if it was really as wonderfully soft as it looked, and it _was_ – she was surprised and yet not surprised when her dear music professor stepped between her legs and crushed her mouth to his own, his hands sliding up under her skirt to stroke the soft, bare skin of her upper thighs, not actually touching any intimate areas but causing them to react strongly anyway. His touch electrified her, and the librarian couldn't help writhing in his arms, desperate for closer contact, sighing her approval between fierce kisses and trailing her hands across his chest.

And then, too soon, it was over – after all, his only intention had been to tease her a little bit. When he pulled back, his gaze was smoldering, but his lips formed a wavering smile. "Ready to go, Mrs. Hill?"

Marian clung to his lapels, breath coming quickly, eyes wide. She wasn't sure how to interpret that – frankly, she wasn't sure how she _wanted_ to interpret that, for she suspected that Harold would accept whatever interpretation she chose, regardless of his original intentions – but the faint, still-unfamiliar call of a seagull outside brought her back to herself, and she settled on a compromise between her warring desires.

"Why don't we head down to the beach – just for fifteen minutes?" she suggested, intending to sound coy but unable to hide the raw longing in her voice or her eyes.

Her husband looked back at her with equal fervor and adoration as he gently pulled her skirt back down and smoothed it over her legs. "Fifteen minutes," he agreed.

xxx

When they at last crested the hill of the dunes and stepped off the boardwalk, the sight stole Marian's breath away. And, though she couldn't tear her eyes from what she was seeing for a single moment, she could somehow sense that, even in the presence of such a view, Harold was watching her reaction most intently of all.

Her first thought was that it was _everywhere_, as far as the eye could see in every direction except where the waves broke on the shore. But any attempt to describe it in words failed again and again – it was unlike anything she had ever known or tried to imagine, in a class all by itself.

When she could find her voice, she laughed aloud in sheer joy and amazement, and she was half inclined to simply run down the beach to get nearer to the water immediately, but it was difficult enough to even walk on the soft sand, and it didn't help that the heels of her boots kept sinking in independently of the rest of her foot – thankfully, Harold was holding tightly to her hand to keep her from falling. But as they neared the water, the sand grew firmer, and despite her every effort to remain dignified, Marian couldn't help but pick up her pace, tugging her husband along behind her.

There were people swimming and wading at the water's edge, of course, but the area that was shallow enough to allow for such activity was tiny compared to the full scope of what she could see – she couldn't even imagine how deep it must have been at the horizon, and beyond and beyond, for there were not enough "beyonds" to encompass what lay in front of her, knowing that even this vastness was a miniscule sliver of the immense Pacific.

"Oh, Harold – I can't believe it!" she cried at last, throwing her arms around his waist and pulling him close. "I can't believe it's even real. I feel like I've stepped into the pages of a book! Thank you so very much for bringing me here."

The music professor was staring out into the distance, too, his warm brown eyes glowing with awe. "I had practically forgotten what it's really like – I hadn't been near an ocean for several years even before I came to River City." He turned to her and kissed her forehead, the happiness on his face magnified by hers. "But that certainly can't be anything like seeing it for the first time."

"It's just so _expansive_," she exclaimed, letting herself sink down onto the sand, not even caring that they had no towel or blanket on which to sit. "I've looked out over fields of grass or corn that went on as far I could see, but I've always known that somewhere in the distance, there was town or a farmhouse, surely not more than an hour's walk. But the ocean – it's as if we're standing on the very edge of the world. If one traced a straight line out from where we were standing, why, there'd be nothing but water and more water all the way to somewhere in the Orient!"

"Maybe there're two people having this same conversation on the other side," he noted, amused, as he sat down beside her.

Marian smiled at the thought. "Wouldn't that be – " She stopped abruptly and wrinkled her nose at him. "Actually, I believe it would be the wee hours of the morning there."

Unwilling to admit defeat, Harold raised his eyebrows in playful defiance. "Well, maybe they're two people who work the night shift!"

"Ridiculous, but not impossible – just like all your ideas," she conceded, kissing his cheek.

As she attempted to get comfortable where she was sitting, Marian noticed her hand brush something flat and hard in the sand beside her. She picked the mysterious object up, letting the sand fall away from it, and examined it in fascination – a pure white seashell, shaped vaguely like a fan. It was such a simple thing that she felt almost surprised that it was completely new to her, but it was – she'd never seen a seashell outside of drawings.

"Oh, look." She proudly presented her discovery to Harold, as thrilled as if she'd struck solid gold. "Here I thought that we might have to go hunting to see any, and I've found my first seashell without even trying! Isn't it incredible?" She blushed a little then, realizing how childish her excitement must have sounded to him. "Oh – I sound like Charlotte when she finds one of her pretty rocks, I suppose."

"Nothing wrong with that," Harold assured her with a grin. "A seashell _is_ quite an amazing thing – and even though I've been by the ocean before, I never bothered to pay much mind to shells. If that's what you want, I'd love to see all the different kinds of shells we could find here."

"Let's look for them, then," the librarian responded fervently. "I'd imagined that we could collect some to bring home. We'll fill our bedroom with them so we can always have a little bit of the sea with us! Of course, I don't want to create clutter, but I'm sure we'll think of what to do with them later. And, we must bring enough home for the children as well – oh, and I suppose my mother would like very much to have some." Abashed, she took a deep breath to halt her fanciful ramblings. "I'm – I'm sounding like Charlotte again."

"Well, she gets it from her mother, then, doesn't she?" He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. "I love watching your Irish imagination come out, darling – you don't need to hide it. I'm just happy to see you happy."

"Yes – I'm _very_ happy right now," she confessed, her voice soft and sweet, and she leaned her head against his shoulder.

The librarian held her first shell up to the sunlight to examine it more closely, smiling as the curved inside glinted with iridescent colors.

She recognized what she was seeing immediately – mother-of-pearl, like the ornamentations on so many of the band instruments, or the buttons on some of her blouses. And now, here it was in nature, not anything to do with pearls, but just the inside of a deceptively white shell – it was incredible, the things that were in the world that she hadn't dreamed of even in her vast literary experiences.

Just seeing the ocean had awakened in her a whole new idea of what a horizon could be, and she realized that she could learn to see her personal horizons in the same way – not boundaries, but boundless. She was already learning what was beyond her horizons, but she wanted to learn more, and what better opportunity could she have to explore them than out here, where everything was new and she'd already traveled far away from the familiar little corner of the world that she'd known?

Filled with more excitement than ever, the librarian turned to the man she loved and squeezed his hand fiercely in her own, and in return he gave her a slightly bemused but intensely affectionate look. He always spoke of how she was the one who gave him the confidence and courage to achieve everything good he'd ever done, but he was the source of all her boldness as well – and with Harold by her side, Marian knew that she could find the strength to do absolutely anything in the world.

xxx

Of course, once they returned to their hotel room shortly after, it wouldn't have mattered where in the world they were. All that mattered was that they were alone, with nothing at all to concern them except exploring one another as thoroughly as they intended to explore the California coast – and not just for one night, like the occasional nights they had to themselves when the children stayed with their grandmother or a friend, but day after blissful day for over a month, the way it had been in the earliest days of their marriage.

They'd had a couple of fumbling trysts in the narrow beds of their private sleeping compartment on the train, but they'd been constricted physically and forced to be even quieter than when the children slept in nearby rooms. Now, at long last, they were free to fully indulge every desire that they'd been teasing out of each other for the past few days – weeks – months, even.

So, when they'd arrived at the room, they hadn't wasted a moment in resuming what they had so briefly started before. Their hands roamed over every inch of each other as if it were the first time they'd ever been at liberty to do so, tugging at each other's fastenings so desperately that it rather compromised their efficiency at undressing.

Even in the midst of their fervor, they had to stop and laugh when he had trouble getting her boot off, or when she found herself suddenly unable to make sense of the knot of his tie – they'd done this hundreds upon hundreds of times, yet here they were, fumbling like a pair of foolish teenagers. That was certainly _one_ way to make everything between them feel new again!

As if things couldn't have gotten any sillier, as they tumbled onto the bed at last, they were arrested by a peculiar snapping sound.

Marian immediately sat up in alarm, her eyes darting all over and hands patting down the covers to determine what they might have broken. "Did that come from the bed? Is there something wrong with it, do you think?"

Harold winced, his hands flying to his pockets. "No, I know what it is." When he held out his hands again, they contained several white-and-gray fragments that were quickly recognizable as bits and pieces of some of the shells they'd picked up on the beach.

"Oh!" The librarian laughed and shook her head, taking the fragments from him and letting them fall to the bedside table – she wanted him far too much to concern herself with disposing of them right now. "Clearly, keeping these in your pockets wasn't the best idea – I guess next time we collect some, we ought to bring some kind of container – "

Even as she spoke, Harold was already drawing her back to him, covering her cheeks and throat with heated, hungry kisses, unbuttoning and unlacing her blouse and girdle and brassiere, and as every moment passed Marian was becoming less and less interested in discussing such practical matters. Her words trailed off into small whimpers pleading for him to touch her more and more – she was vaguely disoriented when her husband spoke again, the vibrations of his voice tickling the skin of her neck.

"Our first time making love in this room, and we're already breaking things?" He pulled back to look at her, with a brilliant, fervent grin lighting his face. "We're setting the bar high for this honeymoon, I must say. I can't wait to see what else we might manage to do…"

Marian smiled, thrilling with anticipation not only for what they were about to do but for all the long, idyllic days that lay ahead of them in the next month. "Neither can I."

It was several hours before they gave any mind to broken seashells again.

xxx

_General disclaimer for this fic: I did quite a bit of research for this story, but I freely admit that I may have taken some liberties with geography here, in terms of the proximity of the areas to each other and how easy it would be to travel between them, especially in 1919… if you happen to be familiar with any of the areas described, dear reader, please don't kill me :P_


	2. Over the Waves

While Marian sat in front of the mirror winding up her hair into a chignon before they departed for another day at the shore, she was aware that Harold had been rifling through his luggage for something – but it still surprised her to see him appear behind her in the mirror with two flat, brown boxes in his hands. He tossed one on the bed behind them and then held the other one out to her, an enigmatic smile on his handsome face.

"What's that?" Marian inquired, gazing up at him quizzically.

His grin widened further. "I have a gift for you."

Of course she'd suspected that was the case – and the fact that, a few days ago, they'd split up for a while when browsing the downtown boutiques had already made her consider the possibility that this would happen – but hearing him say it still made her feel a little guilty. "Oh, Harold, you shouldn't have," she exclaimed, taking the box from his hands. "This whole trip cost us enough money. I'm not expecting you to give me anything else!"

"I think you'll make an exception for this – at least, I hope you will."

The librarian raised her eyebrows, but she eagerly took the package from his hands.

From the size and shape of the box – as well as what she had come to expect from Harold over the years – she had figured that he must have been giving her lingerie, though why he would give her such a thing in the morning made little sense to her. But as soon as she lifted the lid, she found herself even more confused. Inside was a very short, sleeveless gray dress, if one could even call it that, along with a pair of matching bloomers that were barely longer than the dress itself. It was so revealing that it didn't seem like the sort of outfit that would ever be meant to wear in a public place, but the fabric was plain and opaque, and there was nothing sensual or erotic about the design, so it certainly was not the lingerie she'd been expecting.

Just before she was about to relent and ask him to explain, she realized what it was – recent experiences helping her significantly. "A bathing costume!" she exclaimed, and felt foolish that it had taken her so long to figure it out.

Harold nodded triumphantly. "Yes, and I got one for myself, too," he declared, grabbing the other box and pulling out what looked like it could have been a black-and-white-striped union suit. "It'd be a crime to come all this way to see the ocean and not ever go in the water, don't you think?"

Marian agreed wholeheartedly on that principle, but she still felt slightly nervous about the idea of wearing this relatively scanty getup in public where anybody could see her. What frightened her most was baring her knees – though the female ankle had become far less taboo in recent years, the knee was one boundary that she had always believed could never be crossed.

Understandably, she had no firsthand experience with the fashions of bathing attire – the tailors and seamstresses of Iowa had no reason to produce such garments, as there would be no profit to be had from it. She _did_ vaguely remember hearing about that whole Annette Kellerman business twelve years ago – and the arrest of a woman over the indecency of her bathing suit was not exactly an encouraging story in this situation, to say the least.

It was silly to worry about that sort of thing, she chastised herself – Harold had bought this bathing costume at a local shop, not pieced it together himself out of makeshift parts, so surely it was well within the acceptable limits of seaside apparel! But she had never been very good at convincing herself not to worry... especially when it came to what others might be thinking of her in public. After all, she'd spent years _knowing_ that everybody around her was thinking the worst of her every action, and that was not an easy habit to break.

Later, as they emerged onto the boardwalk and then the beach, Marian felt like she might as well have been naked. Well, no, that would have been far worse, she had to admit – but she still felt as though she might be facing a roughly equal level of censure.

Although it made her feel nosy, she found herself nervously assessing what kind of bathing costumes the other women at the beach were wearing, so she could prove to herself that she was not actually baring more skin than propriety allowed in this situation.

But Marian was not the only one thus attired, and nobody seemed particularly concerned about women's knees here. Some wore stockings and shoes and longer sleeves that covered their shoulders, but others did not, and neither of the zealous-looking lifeguards that the librarian had seen patrolling up and down the beach had stopped to condemn any one of them. There was a great mix of different styles on display, and she deemed that her suit must surely be on the more fashionable end of things with its sleeker cut and more revealing style – as the general fashion of women's clothes had moved toward shorter skirts in the past couple years and bare ankles were no longer such a sin, it made sense that bathing costumes would have been changing as well. She tried to calm her pounding heart – nothing was going to happen, she reminded herself. Harold would never have led her astray.

She was actually surprised that her husband was not taking this opportunity to tease or flirt with her at all while they reclined on their blanket – the librarian almost felt a little insulted that he was _not_ staring at her bare legs, as inappropriate as that would have been, because it usually took far less than this to attract his appreciative gaze!

But then she realized that if he allowed himself to become aroused even slightly while he was wearing that thin and form-hugging suit, the results would be impossible to conceal.

Marian felt her cheeks flush bright red – could _that_ really have been the reason for his reserved demeanor? Just thinking about the possibility was making the librarian feel a bit stirred up, herself, and certainly not for the first time, she was grateful that there could be no visible consequences to _her_ thoughts turning a bit too amorous while they were in public…

"Something the matter, dear?"

Her mind was abruptly returned to her present state of dress, and she laughed nervously, fidgeting and pulling at her hem – though she was happy that he hadn't ascertained the _true_ nature of her current thoughts. "I still feel like I'm doing something horribly wrong, with my legs bared like this," she told him truthfully. "I've never shown this much skin to anybody but you in my adult life!"

"Get in the water and you won't have to worry about that," Harold teased. "Not that you _should _worry, though!"

"You're right," she conceded, standing up and staunchly resisting the urge to shrink and cover herself. "We traveled two thousand miles to get here – I shouldn't let something as silly as my knees stop me now!"

Something else _did _stop them from simply leaping into the ocean, of course – even stepping into the water at its very shallowest point, at the place where the waves spread and dissipated across the sand before retreating back out to sea, was startlingly cold, especially as her feet had become accustomed to the hot sand.

Marian giggled and gasped and jumped at the shocking chill of the water – but then she realized all at once what a childish spectacle she was making of herself, and she covered her mouth in horror, looking around furtively to see if anybody was casting disapproving glares in her direction.

"I – I don't think I can do this without making an utter fool of myself," she confessed, taking a few steps back to warm her feet up on the softer ground.

Harold placed a reassuring hand on her arm. "Darling, nobody is expecting you to be the epitome of dignified grace here and now. We're not the only people on this beach who have any interest in playing in the water!"

Marian sighed, staring down at her toes and digging them into the sand. "Well, a man and woman six years married and the parents to three children might be expected to uphold a certain standard of behavior."

"Yes, but on the other hand, we've been married for over six years, so I think we get to do as we damn well please by now – especially as we are in the presence of neither our children nor anybody we know," she countered, though with no real enthusiasm.

She'd always loved how her husband could always talk her down from whatever self-defeating position she had adopted at the moment. She very badly wanted not to believe what she was saying, and deep down, she knew that she was being a tad overcautious, but she relied on Harold to be the one to convince her and relieve her of her worries. Still, she wasn't quite certain yet, so, once again, she took stock of the surrounding bathers, trying to prove to herself that she was not the only adult woman so dreadfully immodest as to be frolicking so enthusiastically in the water – and, ideally, that doing so wouldn't be considered immodest at all!

Many of the women nearby were teenagers or perhaps in their early twenties, while some of the folks closer to her own age seemed to be parents playing with children, and at first Marian feared that maybe she'd been right after all.

But then she looked a little ways down the beach and saw two women, decidedly older than herself and wearing outdated bathing costumes, linking arms and jumping over the waves as they splashed into the shore. Even from this far away, she could hear them laughing and even letting out little whoops of delight and excitement. Marian couldn't know for sure, but she imagined that in another situation, they probably would have been a pair of proud and stately matrons, yet even they were willing to abandon decorum and enjoy themselves without shame. If nobody looked upon them in disapproval, then certainly it couldn't have been wrong for her to loosen her grip on her too-rigid notions of propriety, either!

She had _not_ come thousands of miles away from home to continue living in her own self-imposed box – what she wanted was to step out of it and never confine herself that way again.

Holding her chin up high, the librarian gave a firm nod and stepped back toward the water. "All right – I'm sorry for fretting like that." She shot her husband a blushing little smile. "Oh, I am so incurably Victorian, I suppose!"

Harold shook his head, squeezing her hand. "Hardly entirely Victorian – just here and there. I find it charming."

She giggled. "I see – just the same way that I find it charming that you're still an incorrigible scoundrel, _just here and there_."

Before he could respond, Marian kicked some water onto his legs, and he laughed, pursuing her further into the water so he could splash her in return.

Going slowly enough that they could become reasonably accustomed to the water temperature – and with the librarian clinging on to her husband's arm, still a little uncertain that she wouldn't lose her footing or be knocked over by a wave – they made their way out deep enough until she was submerged to her waist, Harold, of course, a little lower.

After a minute or so of shivering, they became accustomed to it enough to enjoy it, and the water felt more pleasantly cool than ice-cold. Holding tight to each other's arms, they jumped over the swell of each wave, floating gently up and then down as it passed them by. Between the thinness of their clothing and the fact that they were both soaked to the skin, Marian still wondered if it didn't look a little indecent for them to be clinging so close together – but there was really no other way of making sure that they both stayed safe.

Harold taught her the sort of game of kicking off with their feet and letting each wave sweep them up as it surged toward the shore. For a few moments, it felt almost like flying, the water doing all the work to carry them along – at least, until their feet or sometimes even their knees met the wet sand, and they were left laughing and needing to wade back out to meet the next wave. Before long, Marian wasn't thinking at all about the other beachgoers and whatever they might be thinking – she clung to his arm and let out gleeful little screams as they gave themselves over to the force of each wave, and he cheered and hollered in delight as well, the two of them playing as joyfully and unselfconsciously as children.

They lost track of time for easily over an hour in this way, and the librarian was certain that she'd hardly ever had such fun in her life. There had only been a couple interruptions to their enjoyment – the first occurred when Harold began inexplicably cursing and flailing his leg about as they waded back out into the water.

"Harold! What's the matter? Are you hurt?" Marian cried, running close to his side and taking his hand. She was furiously imagining all sorts of fearsome stinging things that might live in the water – jellyfish, sea urchins…

But he calmed down after a few moments, sighing and wiping his hand across his forehead. "It was nothing. It – it was seaweed. It, um, startled me."

She almost laughed in relief and incredulity, though she didn't want to make him feel embarrassed over it. "Seaweed? Is that really all? Why, I thought – "

As Marian took another step, something wrapped around _her _leg – and she no longer wondered why her husband had reacted so vehemently. It was somehow both slimy and rough, and her full awareness that it was only a plant did nothing to dispel the illusion that it was _grabbing_ her. She wailed in disgust, jumping backward on one foot and doing her best to kick it away – and, when it was finally gone, she ground her foot down into the sand to stop the terrible sensation from sending shivers up her spine.

Blushing bright red, she glanced up at Harold, who was barely repressing a smirk at her plight. "Yes – _seaweed_," she muttered, duly chastened by her encounter.

The only other problem they'd had to deal with had been a couple surprisingly forceful waves that splashed over the backs of their heads, flung them to the ground and left them coughing and spitting out seawater. Thankfully, staying close together kept them completely safe, just as they'd hoped, but as the tide rose and the rougher waves became more and more frequent, they realized that it was probably a good time to get out of the water.

It felt strange to be back on land after spending so long in the water, however – and as they shivered and wrapped themselves in towels as their bodies attempted to readjust to the heat, they started to become aware of some of the less pleasant aftereffects of swimming in the ocean.

"Strange that they call this 'bathing' – I can think of few things that leave one feeling _less_ clean," Marian quipped as she tried in vain to clean the sand from her feet and legs so she would feel comfortable putting on her shoes and stockings again, until she finally had to give up and put them on while she was still damp and sandy. On the walk back to the hotel, she felt both gritty and waterlogged.

As soon as they were back in their room, Harold suddenly examined her face with concern in his eyes. "We need to be more careful next time, dear. Your usual blush is burned right into your cheeks."

Marian tentatively touched the skin near her nose – which she _had _noticed was feeling strangely warm – and winced at the slight but irritating pain. Further investigations quickly revealed that the tops of her shoulders were burned as well, and she wished now that her bathing costume had just slightly longer sleeves. She walked over to the mirror to see just how her face looked, and winced again to see that the music professor's assessment of her appearance had been quite correct.

"Goodness, I haven't had a sunburn since I was just a little girl – I suppose I should have been wise enough to wear a hat today, though I don't see how it wouldn't have been swept away by the waves." She turned and searched Harold's face to see if he had suffered any similar effects, but he appeared completely fine. "You don't burn, do you?" she remarked, feeling envious of that inborn tolerance even though her ivory skin had always been a point of pride.

Harold shrugged, looking a little guilty that he had escaped unscathed while she had not. "Not easily, no."

"So you probably just become even more tan and handsome?" she teased.

"I don't know about handsome, " he said with a laugh, pulling the strap and collar of his bathing suit to the side a little so Marian could see the subtle line of separation that made it clear which skin had been exposed to the sun and which had not.

She crinkled her nose at him – though she quickly regretted it for the little sting of pain it sent through her reddened skin. "Perhaps it looks odd, but it doesn't _hurt_."

The librarian shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot as they spoke, the feeling of her wet clothing against her skin driving her slightly mad. Both of their gazes settled on the door of the washroom at the same time. They were both so desperate to get clean that they couldn't even consider the foolishness of a shared bath – such an arrangement was practically useless for much actual washing, and that was what they both needed before anything else could even enter their minds.

Though the day had been wonderfully fun, the physical toll it had taken was palpable, and Marian became more aware of it with every passing minute. As the seawater dried on her skin, she was becoming more and more irritated by the salty feeling that it left behind – not to mention the sand that still clung to her skin in many places – and, though her high chignon had prevented it from getting _too_ saturated, her hair was drying to be rather stiff and straw-like. Her eyes felt a little strained, too, from such prolonged exposure to sunlight reflected off sand and water, and the beginnings of a headache pulsed in her temples.

"You first, darling," Harold offered magnanimously.

Marian was incredibly reluctant to refuse, but she felt it to be the right thing to do. "Oh, _you_ should really go first. It will take me so much longer to wash my hair than it'll take you. I shouldn't leave you waiting that long."

Her husband strolled right into the washroom and turned on the bathwater, and, for a moment, the librarian thought that he was taking her up on her refusal – but very soon, he stepped out again with a grand sweep of his hand. "Really, Marian – I insist."

She still didn't feel quite right about it, but in this condition, she did not have the willpower to refuse a second time.

Getting _back_ into the water seemed counterintuitive when all she really wanted was to feel clean and dry again, but the warm water of the bath on her now cold and clammy skin was heavenly. She wasn't sure of the last time a bath had affected her so – the soap and water were a blissful relief as they washed the grit from her body and hair and left her feeling extremely grateful for just how _comfortable _it was to be clean.

Enfolding herself in one of the enormous hotel towels as she let the bath drain and then turned the faucet on again for Harold, she could already feel herself growing pleasantly drowsy. She felt like a heavy sort of exhaustion had slowed down every muscle in her body, as though the effort of fighting against the power of the waves had finally caught up with her.

After returning to the bedroom so Harold could take her place in the washroom, she barely managed to slip into a nightgown, brush and plait her hair and then rub a little lotion onto her sunburn before succumbing to the urge to sprawl out on the bed.

She didn't actually fall asleep, as she was still aware of the sounds of water in the washroom as her husband took his bath and the faint call of seagulls outside, but her mind had fallen into a curious pattern that kept her from relaxing further, unable to let go of the rhythm of the afternoon just yet – when she closed her eyes, it was like she could see and feel the waves swelling, carrying her, dropping her again and again. It was not an altogether unpleasant feeling, but it distracted and frustrated her as the images replayed over and over without end, keeping her mind working even as she tried to drift off to sleep.

When Harold slipped into bed beside her, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him. In response, Marian smiled and cuddled even closer – it was the wonderful, comforting rhythm of his breathing and heartbeat that she could fall asleep to, freeing her from the ceaseless torment of her monotonous ocean-thoughts. She took one of his hands from her waist and pressed a gentle kiss against it – and felt him react in surprise, the slight jump of his muscles evident.

"Oh, I didn't mean to wake you, dear," he exclaimed softly.

"I wasn't asleep," the librarian assured him with a yawn.

"You would have been soon, though, wouldn't you?"

"Now that you're here, I will be," she murmured. "It's so much easier to sleep with you here. You're – half of me."

Harold chuckled, lightly kissing the back of her head. "Well, I feel the exact same way about you – awfully convenient that it worked out that way, isn't it?"

She smiled and snuggled into his arms. "Very much so."

xxx

When they awoke from their nap a few hours later, after they'd overcome their confusion at waking up in the early evening to a room bathed in the light of sunset, Harold inquired if her body had fully recovered from their adventures in the ocean.

The question disoriented her again for a brief moment – had that really been only earlier today? She was happy that their few hours of sleep had been enough to banish the fatigue she'd felt earlier.

"Well, my sunburn hurts a little," she informed him. "And my legs are still a bit sore, though I don't know if that's from the ocean as much as from walking on the sand for so long."

"Poor thing," he murmured. "Maybe you'd like me to massage them?"

Through her fog of drowsiness, Marian could not exactly perceive if his intent was seductive or innocent – if it _were_ innocent, she reasoned that it would not remain so for long, and she felt rested enough now that the very thought sent a flutter of excitement through her lower body. The more often they made love, the more powerfully she craved him, and when she was in that state, even the lightest brush of his fingers could bring all kinds of delicious thoughts to her mind...

She smiled – though the way they were spooning meant that he could not see it. "That sounds nice."

Although he made no attempt to touch her intimately at first, she still relaxed pleasantly under his comforting ministrations, slowly slipping back into a doze as he massaged her. Then she felt his hands tense and heard his quiet gasp as his fingers unexpectedly found her thighs bare, and for a moment, she thrilled with anticipation of his hands finding their way even higher – but to her disappointment, he slid them safely back down to her calves, returning to his soothing but decidedly not amorous attentions.

She wondered how easily she could seduce him into turning his attentions into something more – she knew enough about his carnal nature that she suspected that it would take very little! Without saying a word, she pulled her gauzy nightgown up just high enough so it would become plain to him that there was nothing at all underneath.

Marian heard the catch in his breathing, and she cast an impish glance over her shoulder to observe his reaction. He looked pleasantly stunned – but, evidently, he still wasn't certain what she was asking for. Perhaps she'd overestimated just how awake he was right now!

Suddenly made impatient by the quickening beat of her heart and the feel of his hands on her skin, the librarian decided to up the ante even further; sitting up a little, she slipped her nightgown up over her head, dropped it to the floor, and then sprawled back onto the pillow, looking coyly up at him. There – she dared him to misunderstand that!

She loved how Harold always gazed at her naked body with the same sort of dazed awe that he had on their wedding night, like he was amazed that she'd even grant him the privilege to see her, let alone touch. It was in those little moments that she could find her most powerful reassurance that years of marriage and motherhood had not turned her into some dowdy matron in his eyes – he was still utterly enraptured by her as she was now, just as she was by him.

Her sudden shedding of her clothing took him completely by surprise – charmingly, he still seemed to be fighting the urge to pounce on her immediately. She'd given him just about the most blatant invitation she could imagine short of grabbing him outright, yet he was still not allowing himself to be convinced that the obvious interpretation was the right one – even when they were alone in a hotel room where they'd already spent days making love! She almost laughed.

"I – I thought you just wanted me to rub your legs," he said, eyebrows raised.

"You know, I think I would rather that you just distract me from them. You're doing such a good job of it already, after all." She stretched her arms languidly above her head, knowing that she was showing off her body to its very best advantage – nothing made the usually modest librarian more confident in her figure than when Harold looked at her as if she were Venus herself!

Tugging down the collar of his nightshirt, Marian let her fingertips flutter teasingly against the tanned skin there. "And you know, I've been selfish. I never asked _you_ if you still have any lingering aches or pains from jumping around in the waves all day."

His characteristic grin slowly spread across his face, as if he were finally starting to realize that this situation was not a dream. "Nothing that you can't distract me from, my dear." He was quick to shed his nightshirt as well, and the sight of his naked body made her grow pleasantly warm with passion and desire.

"Why don't you show me how you'd like me to distract you, then?" she teased as she allowed her hands to explore the muscular planes of his body before giving his backside a mischievous squeeze.

At that, Harold rolled her over onto her back with a sensual rumble in his throat, his hands desperate to caress every inch of her soft, feminine curves and his thigh nudging her legs apart. "I think you'll catch on quickly," he whispered in her ear as his hips moved against hers in a pantomime of the lovemaking that they both wanted so badly.

He was so hard and she was so wet that it was utter lunacy to pretend that anything was ambiguous about this situation, even under the guise of teasing! Laughing with joy, Marian wrapped her legs firmly around her husband's waist to draw him even closer. "I think I already have," she replied as she guided him to her entrance – and it wasn't long before they were both _completely_ distracted from their sore legs.


	3. Lips That Touch Wine

Before coming to California, Marian had at least been able to make an attempt at picturing the ocean, even if her visions had ultimately not measured up to the real thing. However, she hadn't given more than a single thought to what the vineyards there would look like. Harold had mentioned them a few times, so she had known of their existence, but in her zeal at the prospect of seeing the seashore, the last thing that had sounded interesting to her were more _farms_.

But she had been wrong to underestimate the vineyards, she quickly learned – while they might not have been nearly as novel to her as the ocean, their beauty was still an incredible sight to behold.

In some ways, the fields did not look so unlike the ones she'd been looking out upon all her life… yet they looked like they'd been painted with a different palette, all the colors, the plants, the birds subtly but completely distinct from those she knew.

The librarian was extremely familiar with the sight of endless flat cornfields, but the vineyards weren't flat at all, or at least, never for too long in one place. Instead, they dipped and swelled and curved over hill after rolling hill until they faded into the distance, where more and more hills and mountains could be seem beyond. The evening sun tinted the tips of the green leaves gold and reflected off the winding river that snaked through the hills, adding an ethereal touch to the entire scene. If she didn't know otherwise, she might have thought she was in Europe based on her surroundings, maybe Spain or Italy. It was really quite impressive that her husband had managed to pick a destination for them that was surrounded by so many diverse landscapes – it was as if she was getting to make up for all of the traveling she'd never done all at once!

As they stood on a long wooden bridge overlooking the vineyards en route to the winery where Harold had planned for them to have dinner, however, Marian felt a sudden mournful twinge in her heart as something occurred to her that, perhaps, should have been obvious all along.

She sighed, her hands clenching around the railing. "What will happen to all of this? It's so beautiful now, but this time next year – I suppose the winemakers will have to let their vines wither in the fields. They'll be ruined," she intoned softly.

Harold nodded, tightening his arm around her waist. "It's a terrible shame. I suppose we have to consider ourselves lucky that we got to see all this while it's still here."

"I hadn't thought that the Prohibition would really do much harm, other than to those whose moral character was questionable in the first place by virtue of making their profits from drink. I truly hadn't considered the livelihoods that would be ruined, _honest_ livelihoods."

He let out a low, sardonic laugh. "If anything, such a law will open a new way for those of questionable moral character to profit. There's already a whole host of bootleggers and moonshiners plying their trade in this country, so imagine all of the money that will be going their way once they're the only game in town! And it _will_ happen; I don't doubt it for a second. "

"I believe it, what with you being an expert on the topic of _questionable moral character_," she teased, elbowing him gently.

Harold chuckled and poked her arm in return. "Naturally."

Marian turned her gaze back to the vineyards and grew serious again, biting her lip in deep thought. "And – well, there's a certain _art_ to making wine, it seems. I don't think it so crass as whiskey and all that." She turned to Harold then, drawing herself to her full height and raising her chin high, as if daring him to be shocked by what she was about to say. "You know, I – I think I want to try some. We're in a place that's known for its wine, so I think it's part of the experience. Not to mention that if we'd come here after this year, it _wouldn't_ be wine country any longer. I think I ought to seize the day and try it while I still have the chance."

Just as she'd predicted, an amused, delighted smile spread slowly across his handsome face – it was the same sort of expression he wore when she stunned him by saying something deliciously indecent.

He leaned back against the railing, raising his eyebrows in amazement. "You really want to? No 'lips that touch wine will never touch mine?'"

She planted her hands on her hips to make her defiance even clearer. "Well, we've crossed _that_ line long ago on our _first_ honeymoon," she reminded him, "so I should think you know that my philosophy never went that far!"

"Yes, and as I recall, you rather liked the taste," he whispered devilishly in her ear, making her flush pleasantly scarlet and move slightly away from him to preserve at least the illusion of proper conduct. "So I suppose it's only a small step from there to you trying the demon liquor yourself…"

She giggled, taking his hand and beckoning him to follow her along the path. "I'm just looking to expand my horizons, darling," she told him – and though she felt a little silly expressing her overwrought sentiments out loud, the warm tenderness in his gaze, even in the midst of his teasing, told her that he understood her completely.

xxx

Housed inside a sturdy, stone-faced building with distinct Old World charm, the little restaurant at the winery smelled delectable, with the scents of rich food, herbs and spices mingling with the deep, underlying aroma of wine. Harold and Marian had eaten only a brief, light lunch earlier when they'd been sightseeing in the city of Sonoma – where they'd seen something that was completely new to both of them, an old Spanish mission – so by this hour, they were both famished.

It had been difficult to choose what dish she wanted to try most from the restaurant's lavish menu, but she managed to come to a decision eventually. On the other hand, she wasn't quite sure what she'd gotten into when she'd declared her intent to try wine – she immediately informed Harold that the task of ordering their wine would be in his hands alone, for she could provide no helpful input on that subject.

Though she knew herself to be more well-educated than the average person, this was an area in which Marian did not have the slightest knowledge – she knew of the existence of red wine and white wine, and that was all she had ever learned on the subject. She stared at the long list of names on the menu in bafflement, and when Harold asked their waiter for a recommendation, the librarian was utterly lost within moments – many of the characteristics that the sommelier used to describe each variety of wine were unlike any that she would have ever associated with food or drink. Though the music professor was more experienced in these matters than she was, Marian was relieved, perhaps selfishly, to see that her husband's brows were soon knit together in confusion as well, and he seemed to be nodding along despite his less-than-complete understanding of what he was hearing. Charmingly, it reminded her of the way he would behave during some of her very first music lessons with him – though it was a look that she hadn't seen from him in years, and certainly not where music was concerned!

Finally, Harold decided upon ordering them each a glass of Pinot Noir, which she supposed was just as good as any other option in her eyes. Frankly, she had other concerns beyond what kind of grape had been used to make the wine she was about to sample.

When the waiter departed, Marian drummed her fingernails on the table, frowning slightly. "Should you have really ordered me a whole glass? If I don't like it…"

Her husband placed his fingers over hers. "Then I'll just drink it instead of getting my glass filled again. It's nothing to worry about."

"All right," she said, still doubtful. "It just seems like such an expensive thing to take a chance on. I don't want to disappoint you if I don't like it."

At that, Harold shook his head firmly, tightening his grip on her hand. "You've never once disappointed me, dear. Don't think it's going to start now over a little wine! Besides, it's no good not to try something new because you worry what _I_ might think if you don't like it. I'm proud of you just for being willing to try – though I wouldn't mind in the least if you preferred _not_ to try it, either."

The librarian finally relaxed, giving her music professor a beaming smile. The time passed easily between them while they waited for their food, and it wasn't until the waiter came back a good while later to deliver their plates and pour the wine that her nervousness resurfaced – for, while she knew that Harold was not going to judge her, she still feared just how unpleasant it might taste if her instincts had led her wrong!

The herb-encrusted chicken that she had ordered smelled delectable, and Marian would have eagerly begun eating right away, but she felt determined to conquer the wine before rewarding herself with something about which she was more certain. Taking a deep breath and putting on a brave smile, she took the glass in her hand. She felt a little out of her element already, not even knowing the correct way to hold it.

"Shall we make a toast?" Harold inquired as he picked up his own.

"To what?"

He paused for a brief moment of thought, then grinned confidently. "To new horizons," he declared, raising his glass.

Marian blushed, but she had to admit that he could not have come up with a better toast for this moment, "To new horizons," she echoed, clinking her glass to his.

Though he took a sip of his wine immediately after and then set it down, the librarian waited for him to finish, wanting him to watch her try hers – though she recognized that this could backfire easily if her reaction was embarrassingly negative. He gazed expectantly across the table, his chin leaning on his folded hands.

"Ah, seven years after the fact, I finally succeed in corrupting the beautiful, innocent Miss Paroo," he mused as she raised the glass to her lips at last. "I always knew I could do it eventually."

She rolled her eyes at him with a smile, inhaled the rich, unfamiliar scent of the drink in her hand once more, and then tried a sip.

The taste was a shock to her senses at first – strong, sweet and tart all at once, and she let her tongue dart across her lips afterward, trying to figure out how she felt about it.

"Do you like it at all? You don't have to drink it if you don't," Harold rushed to assure her.

"It feels a little like I swallowed fire," she remarked with a laugh, rather amazed at how a single mouthful of wine had left a lingering burning sensation that she could feel all the way down to her stomach. "But I don't _hate_ it. I have a feeling it's an acquired taste – let me try again."

Prideful and Iowa stubborn as ever, Marian refused to be so easily stymied by something as simple as an unfamiliar flavor – it wasn't as though it had actually made her gag, so surely she could get used to it! Fortunately, the second sip was much more appealing – once she'd gotten used to the acrid, burning sensation that was to be expected from the alcohol, she found herself able to appreciate the unique flavor of the wine itself. And it was much easier to enjoy it when she drank it little by little between bites of her meal rather than all on its own, so she was soon drinking it without even thinking too deeply about the whole thing.

She was curious, however, to know if the wine was affecting her at all in any of the expected ways. Certainly, she was feeling remarkably lighthearted and could hardly stop smiling, but hadn't she felt that way for practically this entire trip so far? And, yes, she couldn't stop herself from staring dreamily at Harold, to the point that she was utterly taken aback by just how wonderful he looked tonight, but then, who would not have been? She had never seen a more handsome man in her life, and she'd known that _long_ before she'd ever had any wine!

Still, it was undeniable that they were both behaving in a more brazenly flirtatious manner than was usual for a husband and wife having dinner in a perfectly respectable restaurant. Even when they were eating, they could barely keep their eyes off one another – or their hands.

And when hands were unavailable, other body parts would do. As they talked, Marian entwined her foot with Harold's under the table – and as the conversation grew more flirtatious, she tried her hand at trailing her foot seductively along his leg. This seemed to succeed in tickling him more than seducing him, but from the fire that was beginning to smolder in his eyes, she supposed that her message had come across regardless.

By the time they left the restaurant, they could barely contain themselves from touching each other in every little subtle way that they could manage – touching every area of bare skin, wrists, necks, cheeks, was as close as they could come to making love in that moment, and they did it with just as much passion as they would have touched each other in far more intimate areas. Just the feeling of his thumb lightly tracing along the soft skin of her palm was enough to make her breathing uneven as heat flooded her body from head to toe.

Marian had not even finished her second glass of wine, so she still couldn't be certain if she'd really had enough alcohol to affect her or if she were merely invigorated by how daring she'd been to try it at all, but as they made their way down the lavender-lined path away from the winery, she could barely contain her giddiness.

"The moon is so beautiful tonight," she exclaimed with a gasp as she stopped to gaze up at the night sky over the vineyards.

Harold wrapped an arm tightly around her slender waist, pulling her close. "Did you know that this place is called 'the Valley of the Moon?'" he murmured in her ear.

"How very romantic that sounds." She leaned her head on his shoulder, nestling even closer to him.

Watching Harold's face as he watched the sky, his profile highlighted in silvery moonlight, the librarian was captivated by how she loved every part of him – his nose, his ears, his smile. It didn't even feel worth it to hide the sheer thrill of desire and adoration that she was experiencing right now – after all, nobody was going to see. Curiously free of all her usual inhibitions, Marian practically leapt at him, throwing her arms around him and capturing his lips in a heated kiss. At first, her husband seemed too stunned to respond, but he quickly caught on, pulling her into a deeper kiss and dipping her low, and the rich taste of the wine in his mouth thrilled her even more.

Cupping his face in her hands as they parted, she sighed happily, her fingers gently stroking his cheeks. "Oh, darling, you're beautiful, do you know that? You tell me how gorgeous you think I am all the time, but I hardly ever say it to you – you must be the most beautiful man who ever lived."

While he did appear touched by her compliment, Harold couldn't hold back an amused chuckle, and Marian started laughing, too, well aware of how strange her sudden outburst must have sounded.

"Now, do you really think I'm all that great, or is that the wine talking?" he asked with a grin.

"_In vino veritas_," she replied, raising her eyebrows playfully. "Oh, the wine might have made me the _littlest_ bit tipsy, but I promise that I still feel entirely myself." She kissed him back fiercely, her hands clenching at the fabric of his shirt, and then pulled back with a brilliant smile. "You, Harold Hill, are more intoxicating than any spirit."

"Mmm, well, I feel the same way about you, my dear little librarian," he murmured, his warm lips pressed against her neck. "I've been drunk on _you_ since the first time you ever caught my eye – I never knew a woman could make me lose my senses the way you do."

"And – just how lost are your senses right now?" Marian asked him, breathless.

Pressing her against a nearby tree, he whispered right next to her ear, his breath sweeping down her neck and making her shiver all over. "Completely. If we weren't at any risk of getting caught, I'd take you right here and now."

Instantly, her legs turned to jelly and she almost had to lean against him to stand up. Thankfully, Harold was more than willing to keep her upright – by pulling her into a searing, demanding kiss that left no question of just how badly he wanted her.

When she thought about it later, Marian wasn't certain how they ever made it back to the hotel before doing something outrageously indecent. She remembered his hand stroking her thigh in the cab, tracing her garter through her skirt, all while he had leaned back casually against the seat, maintaining the pretense that he was doing no such thing. In return, she'd laid her hand on his thigh in a seemingly innocent gesture while letting the tips of her fingers trace up and down the front of his trousers, feeling them grow tighter as his erection grew to strain against them, and they both had to fight desperately to hide their heightened breathing from the oblivious driver.

As soon as the door of their room was closed and locked behind them, Harold shocked her by pressing her right up against it as he kissed her, one hand on either side of her shoulders while his hips ground against hers, making no secret of how hard he was for her by now.

Yet the librarian still urged him closer, wrapping a leg around his waist, her hands pressing into his backside. It took her a few moments to realize that all of this would do no good compared to simply opening his trousers, but when her hands finally found her way below his belt after unbuttoning their way down his shirt, his own were already there.

"Eager?" he teased as their hands met.

"I could say the same for you, Mister Hill," she retorted.

Marian felt delightfully daring and wicked and naughty tonight, all of the things that always resulted in their most exquisitely passionate nights of lovemaking, and, as he'd already done all the work of freeing himself for her, she decided to take things a step further.

Closing her hand around his erection and teasing him in long strokes, she watched his face intently as he sighed and gasped and groaned with pleasure, her name falling from his lips amid incoherent sounds of need. His hands, which were just slipping inside her bodice to cover her breasts, clenched and tensed.

Emboldened by the wine, and knowing very well by now what it did to him when she talked like this, she murmured a heated torrent of words in his ear to let him know exactly how much she appreciated that particular portion of his anatomy and what he could do with it, using _his_ preferred set of terms.

Groaning low in his throat and rocking his hips more furiously against her skillful hands, Harold whispered his own tantalizingly obscene promises between exquisite, wet kisses to her breasts – and, though his ministrations were already making her see sparks of light behind her eyelids, Marian still reveled in being the one who had brought him to this point.

She had overestimated how long she could stay in control, however. As Harold worked his hand into her drawers, his fingers found her hot and wet and aching, and she wailed and twisted against him, her body responding powerfully to the touch that she'd spent far too long anticipating tonight. Turnabout was fair play, she supposed… and she certainly was not even slightly disappointed with his current actions, except that they were not _enough_.

Before long he had tugged her drawers down her legs so she could step out of them easily, and when she next wrapped her still stocking-clad leg around his hip, he was already pressing against her entrance, making her gasp and arch her back against the door.

As the librarian braced her body against his for balance, she still could not resist letting her fingers tangle in his lovely dark hair – nor could she resist bantering with him a little more. "Here we have this beautiful bed just a few feet away, and you'd prefer to have me up against the door?" she inquired, widening her eyes in a display of exaggerated innocence.

Harold chuckled, the sound roughened by the intensity of his lust. "I don't give a damn about any beautiful bed when I have my beautiful _wife_ right here. And I'd prefer to have you _right now_, wherever we happen to be. It's just pure luck that we happened to make it back to our room in time."

She knew he was overstating things – well, she was _fairly_ sure – but the thought of his desire being that keen, that impossible to contain, sent a shiver of pure carnal need throughout her own body. She could barely endure the way that he was teasing her right now, so very close to being inside her but still denying her the satisfaction she craved.

"Harold, _please_," she breathed. "I want you so badly, too – I need you. Now." Her fingernails raked against his scalp, her hips pressing frantically against his in a fit of primal urgency.

"Well, I would never dream of disappointing you, Madam Librarian," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "I suppose I'll have to make love to you all night long, just to make sure that I don't leave you unfulfilled in any way. Fortunately, there's nothing I do better than satisfying you, so I'm sure I'm up to the task."

Gathering what little composure she still possessed, Marian stared right into her husband's eyes, raising an eyebrow at him with a little smirk. "Prove it," she challenged hotly.

Without hesitation, he thrust forward and entered her at last – making them both shudder and cry out from both the heavenly sensation and the ardent need for more and _more_ – and proceeded to do just that.

It was a long time before they even made it to the bed.


	4. The Etiquette of Postcards

The thoroughness of Harold's research for this trip continued to amaze Marian at every turn.

"Harold, excuse me for asking, but _how_ did you manage to find all of this information when the one person from whom you needed to hide your research was the librarian herself?" she inquired as they sat in a cab on their way to another mysterious destination that Harold had selected for them.

He shook his head, seemingly exhausted at the mere memory. "Not easily, to say the least. But I had co-conspirators."

Marian couldn't help but giggle. "Oh, of _course_ you did."

"I went to the library on a few of your days off and had Miss Farrow help me determine which books I needed – and Marcellus, Tommy, Zaneeta and Winthrop all took out a few books in their names and dropped them off at the Emporium, just so no further gossip could be roused by my frequent borrowing behind your back! I spent some of the time reading when I really should have been working on band matters, because it was really the only way I could hide what I was doing from you."

She sighed, wrapping her arms around him. "Goodness, you did all of that for me? So that must have been why you were so run-down around the time of the Christmas concert – I had never even thought of that!"

"Yes, it got much easier once you knew about the trip and I no longer had to hide _completely_. Of course, I wanted to keep most of the specifics secret from you, so I still tried to do my research at times when you wouldn't catch me. There are things that I've been just bursting to tell you about for months – but hopefully the surprises make it worth the wait!"

So far, they most certainly had, she assured him – and today, he had proven the extent of his pre-trip planning all over again.

Marian hadn't had the slightest idea just what he wanted to show her in the city of Petaluma, which was a rather long ride from the coast, and he hadn't given her any hints. As he led them through the streets of the city, he would not even tell her what he was trying to locate on his map. She was halfway between amused and profoundly annoyed at this behavior – but right around the time that she was on the verge of losing her good humor and sharply demanding that he stop this nonsense at once, they came to stand before an enormous, ornate stone building with the words _FREE PUBLIC LIBRARY_ carved over the entrance, and Marian knew that this was their destination.

Harold turned to her, grinning, and squeezed her hand tightly. "The Petaluma Carnegie Library, Madam Librarian. When I heard that there was a library this beautiful so close to where we would be staying, I knew that I had to make time to bring you here."

Not even caring that they were out on the sidewalk, the librarian threw her arms around her husband and kissed him.

The building was as stunning on the inside as on the outside, with sweeping staircases, rich, polished wooden embellishments, and a stained-glass dome that would not have looked out of place in a church. And of course, most interesting of all were the books – it fascinated Marian to see what kind of collection this library had, and though she couldn't have possibly explored it all in one day, she took the opportunity to search for books that ought to be stocked in the Madison Public Library, as well as those that she'd simply like to read.

Of course, there was no possibility of borrowing any books from this particular library, but she picked up a few later in a shop downtown, both for the library and for herself – she was especially interested in some of the books that specifically focused on the Sonoma region and its history. While such books might not be especially in demand among the River City-ziens, they _were_ rare and unique, and she couldn't resist the opportunity to add such books to the library's collection.

They spent the rest of the day sightseeing and browsing the shops of downtown Petaluma. In addition to a few souvenirs for the children, Marian had even managed to find a wonderful present for Harold – an accomplishment of which she felt perhaps a little overly proud, but she was determined not to let her husband spoil her senseless without being able to spoil him back from time to time! This time, _she _had been the one to suggest that they split up for a short while, though somehow, she was sure that he'd still used that opportunity to buy her yet another gift.

In one little gift shop, they had found a display of postcards, and they'd remembered the important duty that they'd been putting off in the midst of their carefree days and nights – it was really about time that they write home.

Though there had been quite a few people who'd told them that they simply _must _write, Harold and Marian finally settled on sending four postcards, to their closest friends, relatives and associates: one to Mrs. Paroo and Winthrop – and by extension, the children, who were staying with them – one to Marcellus and Ethel Washburn, one to Nellie Appleton Wheatley and her new husband Jonathan, and one to Tommy and Zaneeta Djilas.

It wasn't until she sat at the desk in the hotel room that night, postcards laid out in front of her, that Marian realized that she had no idea what to write on them.

"It's such a small space," she exclaimed in dismay. "What do we write? It seems a little boastful to tell them of all the wonderful things that we're seeing while they're back at home. It would sound like gloating. And there's hardly enough room to balance that out with questions about how _they're _doing, especially as we won't be getting any responses…"

Harold knelt beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder, chuckling at her over-complication of the issue. "Easy. We tell them that California is beautiful, but that we miss them all terribly."

She nodded, pressing her lips together. "Yes, that works well. Although I don't know how I can possibly express in such a small statement how much I miss the children! I could write each one of them an entire letter on that subject – never mind that only Charlotte can even read yet." She couldn't help the sharp pang in her heart that came from thinking about how long it had been since she'd seen her children, and she sighed plaintively. "I'd be comfortable staying here a lot longer if it weren't for them. They grow so quickly – especially Susie, she's still so little – what if we come home and they look different than when we left?" It was a sentiment that both of them had already expressed multiple times even before they'd ever left River City, but Marian still thought it could bear repeating. "Sometimes I just can't take thinking about how far away they are!"

Harold wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly to his chest in understanding. "I know, darling. It's not as easy to live in our own little world as it was when we had our first honeymoon – I feel like I left a piece of my heart behind halfway across the country. Well, three pieces."

"That's exactly what it feels like," she lamented. "Oh, as happy as I am to be here, when I think about them, it makes me itch to leave right this minute!"

"I'm sure they're having a wonderful time with their grandmother, though," her husband assured her, chuckling. "She'll make sure of that."

"Yes. I imagine that when we come home, it will be a long struggle to get them to go to bed at any sort of reasonable hour."

Marian smiled to think of the various kinds of excitement and mischief the children were surely taking the opportunity to engage in – though they were only a few streets over from their home, they must have felt like they were on an exciting vacation of their own.

The children would have been thrilled to stay at their grandmother's house at any time, but it was a particularly exciting place to be right now. Winthrop and Amaryllis were to be married in July, and even for her son's wedding, Mrs. Paroo had been all too eager to pitch in with the preparation for the bride – as Amaryllis' mother was not much of a seamstress herself, she had accepted the help gratefully. It had been Mrs. Paroo's idea to embroider amaryllis flowers onto the veil and the dress, and even before Harold and Marian had departed at the end of April, she had been hard at work on this task. She had also promised Charlotte that she would teach her some of the basics of sewing and embroidery, and Marian knew that her oldest daughter, with her intense attention to detail and hunger for all kinds of knowledge, would enjoy learning.

Winthrop, who was probably seeking some solace from the world of lace and ribbons that had surrounded him ever since he and Amaryllis had become engaged, had promised that he would take William fishing – even though the boy was too young to have much patience with the whole process, nothing thrilled him quite like the adventure of a journey out into nature, especially when it meant that he got to spend time with his beloved father or uncle, who he was certain were the greatest men in the universe.

And, of course, little Susanna, who had to be practically dragged away from Mrs. Paroo's chickens every time that they left her house, would be overjoyed to have all the time in the world to watch and play with the animals. She was certain to also have ample time to visit with Amaryllis' little dog and Milly Appleton's dog and cat, so, while Marian worried the most about being separated from her youngest and most sensitive child, she could take comfort in the fact that she would have many companions to tide her over.

"By the time we return, Susie will probably have trained the chickens to do tricks, William will have established a permanent residence in your brother's old treehouse, and Charlotte will already be smarter than me," Harold concluded, smiling affectionately just from speaking about them. "At least it will lessen our disappointment when we finally have to leave to know that we'll soon be home with them."

"Next time we go somewhere, I think we shall just have to bring the children along with us – once they're a bit older, of course. They ought to get the experience of traveling to new places, and clearly we can't bear the separation very well at all." She gave him an impish smile, certain that they were both thinking the same thing right then. "Although it _is_ perfectly wonderful to get to behave as wantonly as we like and make love as often as when we were newlyweds, so I think we will still have to arrange _some_ times to be completely alone, " she conceded with a blush.

"We'd better not write anything to that effect in the postcards," the music professor warned dryly.

"Oh, Harold!" Marian exclaimed with a cry of scandalized laughter, swatting at his arms.

"Well, it's true, darling – if we had to be entirely honest about what we're spending most of our time here doing – "

"Not _most_!" she protested. "Certainly, we've been, um, enjoying ourselves – each other – but we've also spent a remarkable amount of time exploring _outside_ our bedroom. The beautiful library, the redwood trees, the mission, the vineyards, the _ocean_ – Why, I can't believe how many things we've seen here!"

"True. I also can't believe how many things we've done _here_," he replied with a smirk, gesturing to indicate that _his_ 'here' meant the hotel room. "Wouldn't want anybody to catch a hint of the depths of delicious depravity we've reached out here…" He was clearly enjoying his alliteration almost as much as his suggestiveness – _almost_.

She poked a scolding finger into his shoulder. "Don't say 'depravity' – you make it sound like there's something wrong with it!"

His grin turned even more gleeful, and Marian knew he was about to say something that he thought was marvelously clever. "Well, as far as plenty of people are concerned, any kind of lovemaking that isn't done as infrequently as possible, with the man always on top and the woman laying still and not enjoying herself in the least, is utterly depraved. If that's so, then it's obvious that depravity is a _good_ thing. After all, it's been proven again and again that _we _both like it very much."

Despite herself, a sensual smile stole across her face – yes, if that was what people would call wanton and depraved, she still embraced it wholeheartedly and without shame. And, truth be told, there _had_ always been a certain degree of erotic excitement in reveling in how wicked it felt to surrender completely to carnal bliss…

Marian raised her eyebrows at her husband, running her fingers through his wavy hair. "So, I suppose the conclusion to be drawn here is that, despite our very full schedule of sightseeing, we've still managed to spend more time making love on this trip than ever before? How do you figure that's possible?"

"Ingenuity, determination, perseverance?" Harold offered, his fingers sneaking up her sides to tickle her. "We've finally mastered the art of efficiency, I suppose. I haven't even figured out how to get this much productivity out of the band rehearsals!"

"'Productivity' is a strange way to put it," she giggled.

"Makes sense to me. I consider pleasuring you to be one of my main priorities in life, so I try my best to do it as often and as effectively as possible." He deposited a series of kisses along the length of her neck, his hands slipping beneath the hem of her skirt, making her laugh and squirm and gasp. "Now, so far on this trip, I think I've done a fairly excellent job of giving you the sort of ecstasy that a gorgeous, sensual woman like you deserves – but I need to keep it up."

Marian didn't know how she could possibly resist such a proposal, but the blank cards on the desk gave her a nagging sense of obligation, even though she knew that they'd come on this holiday to avoid such things. "Harold, the postcards," she protested weakly. "We'll never get them done if we don't work on them now…"

"Sure we will," he maintained, slipping his hands up her skirt and unclipping her garters as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do in this situation. "We just have to do it when we're not so distracted."

"_You_ are being the distraction here, Harold!" she giggled.

He paused in the midst of kissing his way up her legs, eyebrows raised. "Do you want me to stop?"

"_Please_ don't," she replied, so quickly and forcefully that she had to laugh at herself a little.

Giving her a sly smile, Harold proceeded to resume his tantalizing journey to the top of her thighs, and Marian sank her fingers into his hair with a blissful sigh.

The postcards could wait, after all.


	5. On a Blanket With My Baby

While it was nothing compared to the true extent of the ocean, Marian was entranced by the way that the beach seemed to stretch off endlessly into the distance, as well.

She'd noticed it when they spent time on the beach and she could see the distant umbrellas dotting the shoreline, the figures of people fading off into colored blurs, and she'd noticed it when they'd dined in a restaurant overlooking the shore and could see the way the beach curved off into the distance.

Yet she'd had no particular inclination to venture beyond the little area of the coastline where they'd spent many of their days – as long as the beach was, Marian didn't think that it would be much different from one location to another, no matter how far they might have explored.

After filling their picnic basket with sandwiches and other treats from a seaside shop, Harold announced that he wanted them to have a private picnic on the beach. While Marian fully understood that this would involve walking until they passed beyond the crowd of beachgoers, what she did _not_ expect was his insistence that they keep on going, even when they were already well past the populated area.

She knew him well enough that she knew that his motivation to explore the most secluded nooks and crannies of the coastline was not simply out of an appreciation for nature – absolutely, he was hoping that they might get the chance to make love out here, or at least come very close to it.

As strange as it sounded, she would have actually felt more secure in this plan if they had been back in River City – whenever they'd trysted outdoors back home, they had always been able to use their familiarity with the area to be as certain as possible that they'd found a place where they had the very least risk of being heard or caught. Here, they had no such knowledge to rely on – for all they knew, there were other honeymooning couples traipsing around looking for just such a place!

Yet Marian found that these concerns were not having very much sway over her today. For one thing, they had walked far enough down the beach that all traces of other tourists had long since disappeared, and it seemed as though it would have taken an extraordinary coincidence for anybody else to wander across them while they were out here. What's more, Harold was not merely seeking a suitable distance from the rest of civilization, but also, evidently, a sufficiently private place. He searched tirelessly around every rock formation and cluster of dunes that they came across, insisting that the "perfect place" was yet to be found. The librarian fully trusted her husband not to make love to her unless he was as close to certain as possible that they were not risking disgrace.

Certainly, she still held some apprehensions – but she couldn't deny the raw excitement that swelled up in her at the thought of doing something like this here, it this wonderful, beautiful new place. It struck her as at once wildly romantic and wickedly daring… and those were perhaps the descriptors that would best encapsulate her mood on this trip in general!

When they finally found what they both knew to be their perfect, isolated place, a little cove surrounded by craggy rocks and towering dunes that shielded it from view, Marian felt herself practically holding her breath as they peeked in, for a moment terrified that they would come across another couple _in flagrante delicto_ after all – but fortunately, they found the place just as empty as it looked from afar.

The whole time, Harold had made no mention of what he hoped for them to do while they were here, and he continued in that vein even after they spread their blanket in the alcove and reclined together to watch the waves. The librarian appreciated that he would make no attempt to pressure her into doing anything if she didn't want to – yet she also found it rather irritating that he had left her to puzzle out his true purpose all on her own. Was she going to have to make the first move after all that he'd done to get them out here?

As she removed her straw hat and laid it down on the blanket beside them, Marian finally decided to let him know outright that she wasn't going to allow him to maintain this façade any longer. Staring out at the rolling waters, she feigned utter nonchalance, as if she were talking about the weather.

"So tell me, Harold, how long have you been dreaming of making love to me by the ocean?" She glanced at her husband to catch his reaction, and she was pleased to see that she'd managed to knock _him_ off-balance a little. "Since we planned this trip? Since we arrived here? Or maybe longer ago – was it one of those times that we made love by the lake outside River City that inspired you?"

A mischievous grin spread across his face, and she knew she had caught him. "I'm surprised at you, Miss Marian. You think _that's_ the reason why I brought you out here? What if I hadn't even considered that possibility and you're the wicked little vixen putting such ideas in my head?"

She cocked an eyebrow. "Unlikely. If you'd merely wanted us to have a picnic by ourselves, we could have stopped walking about twenty minutes ago and been just fine. You wanted to find _privacy._"

"Well, yes, I wanted us to be – open to the possibility of more. I'm _not_ asking or expecting anything from you, though. You can always, always say no."

"Oh, I know," Marian assured him, giving him a sly smile that she hoped would convey that she had no such intentions. "Now, you haven't told me yet – how long?"

Harold chuckled and ran a hand through his dark hair, "Definitely ever since I decided to bring you to the seaside for our second honeymoon. But maybe even before that. Maybe the first time I thought of this was all the way back when I first resolved to show you the ocean."

"I thought of it too, you know," she whispered, a blush spreading across her sunkissed face. "Not long ago like you did. I thought of it the very first time we sat on the beach together, but I didn't think it was possible – I didn't imagine that we could find a place that would be secluded enough. As ever, you've managed to find a solution to everything, though!" She took his hands in her own, gazing into his eyes with complete vulnerability and openness. "I'm putting all my trust in you – I will trust completely that nobody will find us here, as long as you tell me so."

His eyes widened as he realized just how serious she was. "You're worried it's indecent of you just to wear a perfectly ordinary bathing costume, yet you're eager to let me make love to you on the beach? Darling, I'm not sure I will ever understand you."

"Well, I can't fully dismiss the possibility that somebody could find their way out here. I know it's a risk. But… I'm feeling brave," she confessed softly, loosening his tie and popping open the first couple of buttons at his collar. "I don't want to let this opportunity pass us by – while we're here, I want to make as many memories as possible."

"Oh, Marian, you don't know how much I love hearing you say that – maybe it's reckless of me, but I want to make love to you everywhere and in every way I can possibly imagine. And I've spent a long time imagining this." A shuddering little sigh escaped him as he finished speaking, his eyes traveling hungrily up and down her body; the librarian was intrigued and delighted by his obvious impatience.

Laughing, she pulled him into a languid kiss, her hands trailing down his abdomen to undo the buttons one by one. "Well, we can't wait too long to decide – eventually, the tide will come in," she whispered. When her hands reached the top of his trousers, she stopped and traced the shape of his belt buckle, biting her lip as she stared into his eyes. "In case I haven't made it obvious – I've decided."

With a groan, Harold gathered his wife into his arms and immediately set about to demonstrate what _he'd_ decided. Gently but avidly, he rolled her onto her back and began unbuttoning her blouse with practiced ease, trailing exquisite open-mouthed kisses across her skin as he went. He freed her breasts easily – one more reason that it was so wonderful that corsets had gone out of fashion, Marian reflected wryly! – and the moment that his mouth was upon her _there_, his tongue fluttering and teasing at her nipples, she couldn't help but cry out and arch her back toward him.

She was aware that they were outdoors and in uncharted territory, and that it was important that they didn't make too much noise, but the music professor was only making her more and more helpless beneath his ministrations – when he slipped her drawers off and let his skillful fingers part her sensitive folds, staying quiet was the last thing on her mind. Murmuring an approving comment about how wet she'd become in such a short time, he demonstrated his well-honed knowledge of her body, slipping two fingers inside her and stroking a little higher with another. He knew how to find all her most sensitive places, and Marian undulated helplessly against him as he sent the most delicious sensations through her body.

As usual, though, she could never truly be satisfied with their prelude when she was denied the opportunity to pleasure _him_, too, and here he'd already rendered her a trembling, perspiring mess while she had touched no part of him more intimate than his chest!

Stopping short of bringing her to climax, Harold abruptly sat up to undo his belt and unbutton his trousers – and, her mind a little clearer now despite the unbearable ache of need in her abdomen, Marian was struck by a wave of mischief. Pulling herself up, she took the opportunity to knock her husband literally off-balance and press him flat on his back on the blanket so she could climb atop hip and straddle his hips. He let out a soft grunt of surprise at first, but he looked up at her with obvious approval, eager to make love to his gorgeous, passionate wife in any way she wanted it.

She grinned triumphantly as she teased him, making him shudder in desperation by tracing the very tip of him along her soft wetness – but the moment that she finally took him in, she could only cry out and shiver from head to toe and watch him do the same, both of them as amazed and overwhelmed as always by how perfectly they fit together. She moved slowly at first, wanting to savor the incredible novelty of the sea air on her skin and sound of the waves rolling behind them while they were so intimately joined – but Harold soon grabbed her hips hard and pulled her down against him, and she quickened her pace to match his, unable resist the sheer lust and passion evident in his actions and his eyes. Before long, they had thrown all caution to the wind, writhing together as furiously as they would have if they'd been in the comfort of their hotel room – and as their lovemaking drew more and more unrestrained moans out of her, Marian realized she was once again doing a terrible job of being quiet!

Parenthood had required them to perfect the art of repressing their cries during their most ecstatic moments – but she had admittedly felt reluctant to do so here on this far-off corner of the beach where they hadn't seen a single soul, after they'd spent weeks enjoying the luxury of being able to cry out as loudly as they liked. Still, she knew that it was the responsible thing to do. Instinctively, with nothing else to help her stifle her cries, she pressed her hand tightly against her mouth, but as the feel of him inside her became too much, she had to change to a clenched fist.

"Darling, please," Harold beseeched her between his own ragged pants and gasps. "I want to see your face – I want to hear you."

Her only hesitation in letting go was that her voice was much higher than his, and she certainly didn't want to be the one to give them away. But she reasoned that it wasn't quite fair to deny Harold the sight and the sound he was seeking while _she_ was able to witness all of his reactions as he moaned her name and his face contorted in the agony of bliss, and after she had bitten red marks into her knuckles from trying to keep herself silent, Marian simply couldn't take it anymore. She let that hand join the other in grasping his hips as tightly as he held onto hers, and a flood of pleading, affirming whimpers fell from her lips, making him groan even louder in return.

Though they were in the midst of a wide, flat expanse of land where sound would carry easily, they also had the roar of the ocean and the obstruction of the surrounding rocks to swallow up some of their cries, and that made her feel bolder in her vocalizations – which was fortunate, because Harold was making love to her so wonderfully that she found it simply impossible to keep from moaning at his every exquisite thrust.

When the exhilaration of her climax overtook her, she had to lean down and bury her face in the crook of his neck to muffle her shouts of ecstasy against his skin – and after she regained control of herself, when she raised her head and looked into his eyes, she saw that he was looking back at her with such fiercely affectionate reverence that her eyes filled with tears.

He pulled her close for a long, slow kiss, his fingers hopelessly mussing her hair – it didn't matter, for she'd seen that he'd put extra pins in the picnic basket in anticipation of this – and as their kiss deepened and grew more desperate, he once again began to move within her.

Just as the waves behind them rolled in and out, her pleasure flowed through her in the same way, waves and swells that grew stronger with the rising tide within her… waves that could reach their fullest point and crash on the shore but still rush back out to sea to begin their ascent all over again.

And when Harold could no longer hold back any longer and he was forced to muffle the extent of his euphoric wails against her skin as he came, Marian was there with him, husband and wife clinging fiercely together, rocking back and forth slightly in each other's arms as the sounds of their coupling finally faded into soft gasps and breaths until the crash of the ocean was once again the loudest sound they could hear.

Afterward, as they sprawled together on the blanket, lazily restoring buttons and ties and laces to their rightful places while they gazed up at the streaks of white clouds spanning the brilliant blue sky, she turned to him, smiling mischievously.

"Aren't you happy I was feeling brave?"

He chuckled, brushing the tousled golden curls from her eyes. "_So_ happy."

There was a certain part of herself that recognized that what she called "bravery" could just as easily be termed recklessness – foolishness – hedonism, even. But she also recognized, to her surprise and delight, that she did not care. Nothing bad had come of the risk they'd taken, and in fact, she'd shared one of the most wonderful, beautiful moments of her life together with her beloved husband because of it. Right now, she simply felt extraordinarily lucky and blessed to have such a deep, passionate love in her life to make such an experience a possibility for her – primness and strait-laced propriety had their place, but it wasn't with him.

All the years she'd spent dreaming of white knights and chaste love seemed laughable now. Marian couldn't have been more grateful that she'd never found the man to treat her like a porcelain doll on a high shelf, something fussy, fragile and cold to the touch, like she'd believed that a good woman was meant to be. With Harold, she had learned to be herself in her purest, most unguarded form, and the same was also true for him – and what they were together was something infinitely better than either one of them could have ever managed to be on their own.

After an untold number of minutes simply basking in Harold's embrace, the librarian sat up at last with a long, satisfied stretch. "Well, we oughtn't fall asleep here – what if the tide comes in?" Grabbing a handful of hairpins from the picnic basket, she began a haphazard attempt to neaten her chignon and conceal the fact that she was, as her husband would call it, a recently well-loved woman. "Do you think we need to start heading back soon? We did walk an awful long way to get out here."

Harold laughed, sitting up to enfold her in his arms. "Marian, aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself? We never even had our lunch."

"Oh!" She could hardly believe that she'd forgotten entirely the ostensible reason for their hike – especially as she'd just availed herself of that very picnic basket to retrieve the hairpins! "You're absolutely right. Well, I'm certainly happy to have an excuse to stay here longer with you."

The music professor was grinning as he began unwrapping their sandwiches. "Hmm – I guess one appetite decidedly overpowered the other today, didn't it?"

She giggled and playfully poked him in the arm. "Well, _this_ kind of hunger goes away with a little food, the other, well – only with utter exhaustion, really."

Harold arched an eyebrow at her. "And, my dear little librarian, are you utterly exhausted now?"

Despite her blush, a saucy smile crept across Marian's face, and she glanced sideways at her husband through lowered eyelashes. "As a matter of fact – I'm not."


	6. Something Old, Something New

The weather had been remarkably fine most of the days that they had spent here – they had seen little rain, mainly just a light drizzle here and there on foggy days. This evening, however, the sky had turned ominously dark just before sunset, and the low rumble of thunder seemed to be growing closer and closer, punctuated by bright flashes of lightning. Harold and Marian had barely made it back to the hotel before the skies had let loose the torrential rain that was now pounding noisily on the roof and rushing down the windows in spiraling rivulets.

"So, I suppose we'll have to eat dinner downstairs tonight, won't we?" Marian inquired as she sat curled up on their bed, flipping through one of her new books.

That familiar scheming glint lit up in Harold's eyes as he sat on the edge of the bed beside her. "Not necessarily."

"Oh, tell me you're not really thinking of going out in this, Harold," she protested with a frown.

"I'm not." Grinning, he brandished a folded menu at her, which she recognized as the one that had been laying around the room since they'd arrived. "Why don't we order room service?"

"That's an idea I like much better," she said as she took the menu from his hand, relieved that he was not planning on dragging them out into the storm.

"And you know, tonight might be the perfect night…" He quickly stopped himself, shaking his head. "Well, I shouldn't say anymore. I want it to be a surprise."

Marian was intrigued, but also slightly exasperated – _how _could he manage to have prepared such a vast multitude of surprises for her? She'd always known that planning and scheming was in his nature, of course, but she truly wished that she had a little more of that in herself so that she wasn't _always _on the receiving end of these delightful plans.

Of course, tonight, she was prepared. She had no idea how her gift to him compared to whatever he was planning to give her, but at least she _had_ one this time – not to mention a couple other very agreeable surprises up her sleeve. A sly smile curved the librarian's lips – it was about time that she turned the tables on him…

For a moment, Harold seemed to be studying her face in puzzled amusement, and Marian realized that she'd almost shown her cards too soon. Hastily, she schooled her expression into one of innocent curiosity so he wouldn't suspect anything, and suggested that they ought to put in their order now so they wouldn't have to wait too much longer. By the time that they had picked out their meals and called in the order, it seemed that the music professor had forgotten all about that flicker of mischief that had briefly crossed her features.

Now he was once again focused on his own plans. "Why don't we get dressed up while we're waiting?" he suggested.

Certain that she'd never heard him say something more bizarre, Marian shamelessly burst out into laughter. "Oh? And how does one dress for a dinner in one's own hotel room?" she asked, cocking her head impishly.

"Well, I thought you could wear some of your lovely lingerie, and I – "

"Will wear pajamas," she finished with a giggle. "Really, what other choice do you have?"

He sat up and squared his shoulders as if prepared to defend his honor. "I can wear a robe, too!" Arms around her waist, he pulled her close and murmured in his low, velvety voice, "Or, if you'd prefer – nothing but a robe."

A blush flooding her cheeks, she wriggled out of his arms, laughing even harder than before. "I think that's a little much for dinner, Harold!"

"All right – but you're the one missing out," he declared, throwing his hands up in mock affront.

Flirtatious mischief once again creeping into her tone, the librarian trailed a teasing finger down his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken even at that small touch. "I have no doubt that you'll make up for it later tonight."

xxx

When Marian emerged from the washroom wearing her lacy sun-yellow nightdress and peignoir, she was charmed by the work that Harold had managed in her short absence.

In addition to changing his own clothes, he had set up two of the desk chairs at the little end table – it wasn't really big enough for a dining table, but Marian supposed they could make it work, and it wasn't _that_ much smaller than the round tables typical of cafes and ice cream shops.

What stunned her most of all, however, was the bottle of red wine he was holding.

"What – when did you get that?" she gasped, aware that she sounded rather foolish – after all, he certainly hadn't conjured it out of thin air while she'd been changing!

"There's almost as much wine as water around here," he laughed. "It wasn't all _that_ hard to find some on one of those days when we went our separate ways while shopping."

Getting her bearings back about her, she walked toward him with a deliberately alluring gait, tossing her long hair over one shoulder. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Mister Hill?" she teased. "Was I really so delightful that last time?"

"Nonsense," Harold said firmly, perhaps taking her remark a bit too seriously. "You are _always_ delightful, my dear – and neither of us were anywhere near 'drunk' the last time! I just thought we might both enjoy this."

"Well, if we're going by taste, I'd still prefer a strawberry phosphate any day – but the _effects_ of wine are certainly quite enjoyable."

Just as she'd stopped to stand in front of him, her hands sliding up his firm chest and eyes full of expectation, there was a knock on the door – their food had arrived. While they moved away from each other in disappointment, Marian supposed that there was no reason to be too upset. After all, they had the entire night together, just as they'd had _every_ night since they'd left home.

After answering the door and retrieving their dishes, husband and wife set about arranging their meal as best as they could on their makeshift table. It wasn't easy with the small space they had to work with – and after Harold had poured the wine, Marian was half-afraid that one of them might manage to spill it, in this precarious dining situation! – but she couldn't deny that the setting was cozy and intimate.

The rain was softer now, a gentle patter outside the window, and the thunder and lightning had passed. Marian was relieved – it didn't seem very conducive to a romantic dining atmosphere to be constantly interrupted by earth-shaking cracks and booms!

"So, the wine – is that the surprise you were planning?" she asked after she'd taken her first sip.

"One of them. Not the best one, though – not by far."

Despite her apprehensions about just how much he was planning to spoil her, Marian was only human, and she could not help the little flutter of excitement that ran through her.

They'd never had any difficulty finding conversational topics, at dinner or any other time, and there was _always_ something exciting to talk about lately, considering all of the new experiences that they were having and planning every single day.

Tonight, they spent much of dinner analyzing the wine that Harold had bought. It was a different variety this time, Zinfandel, and Marian was quite interested to taste how it compared to the only other wine she'd ever had – but she was scarcely able to perceive any difference. Though the music professor insisted that this wine was less sweet than the one she'd tried before, she had hardly thought that _that_ one had been all that sweet, either! Regardless, it gave her an incentive to continue sipping the wine all throughout dinner, and it didn't take long before she felt the now-familiar lightheaded warmth spreading throughout her body.

The wine was, admittedly, taking the edge off her uncertainty over the most adventurous surprise she was planning for Harold tonight – not one of her gifts for him, but something she had resolved to _do._ Over and over again, Marian had wondered if she should back out, if her idea was foolish or strange after all. But now, laughing and drinking with her handsome husband, she was so swept up in desire and anticipation that her lingering doubts didn't seem to matter so much anymore. She already knew that her husband planned for them to share a wonderful night together – wouldn't he extra pleased when he found out that she'd made plans to make it even more wonderful!

By the time that they had finished eating and cleared their plates back onto the room service tray, the librarian had almost completely forgotten about Harold's veiled remark a little while before. She did think, for a moment, that it was odd that he should be reaching into the pocket of his robe – What would be in there? She'd never seen him actually _use_ those pockets before – but by the time she put two and two together, Harold was already pressing a little gold-papered box into her hand. Her husband grinned as she stared back at him, astonishment coloring her features.

"I told you there was a better surprise on its way – why don't you see what it is?" he suggested, brown eyes twinkling.

She gasped when she considered the size and shape of the box – if it were that small, she couldn't imagine what it could contain other than jewelry. "Oh, Harold, I told you I didn't expect gifts."

"I know, and I hadn't planned this, but once I got the idea, I just had to do it. Please, darling, don't worry about the money. I wouldn't have done anything that we couldn't afford – and I want you to have this."

Her heart racing with excitement, she lifted the lid of the box with slightly trembling fingers. Inside, nested on a satiny pillow, was a fine golden necklace, a pendant dangling on a delicate chain – and the pendant was a single golden seashell, exquisitely detailed and perfect.

Marian's hand flew to her mouth on a soft, happy exhalation. "My goodness, it's lovely – _thank you_."

"One that will never break," he told her with an adoring, unpretentious smile, and he stepped behind her to fasten the clasp around her neck, gently stroking her skin with his fingers as he did so. "I can't marry you again, but I want you to have something from our second honeymoon as precious and permanent as from our first. As our wedding rings are a symbol and reminder of our wedding vows, I want this necklace to be a reminder that, six and a half years and three children later, I mean them more than ever. I _love_ you more than ever, and I always will."

The gift would have been lovely enough on its own, but to hear him say such things was too much. "Oh, Harold," Marian exclaimed, tears filling her eyes and a lump forming in her throat. Unable to find the words to express how grateful she felt, she simply climbed into his lap and buried her face in his chest, breathing in the scent of him. Between the warmth of his body and her own, the seashell pendant felt cold against her chest, and she was struck with a wave of emotion all over again – she felt as loved and blessed as she had the first time he had stood before her and spoken his vows, telling her and the world that he had chosen to be hers forever.

When her husband pulled back and wiped the tears from her eyes with his thumbs, she melted toward him, and he captured her lips in a kiss that was long and slow and deep. In that moment, Marian wanted nothing more than to let him take her to bed and make love to her over and over in affirmation of the beautiful promises he'd just made.

But she had her own gift to give him, and she wanted to make her feelings about him every bit as clear as he had. So, very reluctantly, she pushed back on his chest and broke their kiss.

"Thank you so much, Harold," she sighed, running her fingers through his hair. "I can't possibly express how much this means to me – I'll wear this necklace every day, so I can never forget a moment of what we've shared here or doubt how much you love me. And – I want to give you something, too."

Slipping from his lap before he could ask any questions, she walked over to the chest of drawers that was filled with her clothes and opened the top drawer, taking out a small box that she'd hidden under her folded stockings.

When she turned back to Harold, a proud smile on her flushed face, he raised his eyebrows when he spied the package she was holding.

"You really didn't have to get anything for me, Marian," he protested, leaning his head on one hand – though curiosity still gleamed in his eyes.

"Hush, you silly man," she laughed as she rejoined him at the table, pressing the box into his hand. "I _did_."

She kept her hand pressed over the box for a moment, feeling compelled to explain herself a little bit first. "When we were shopping that day in Petaluma, I wasn't only looking for souvenirs for the children – I wanted to surprise you with something as well. Granted, you're a difficult man to shop for, or maybe it's always harder to find something for a man than for a woman. I'm sure this won't measure up to what you've given me, but I truly hope you'll like it anyway."

Removing her hand, she sat back in her chair and held her breath for a brief moment as Harold opened his present, hoping that he would be happy with it. She was thrilled to see his eyes light up as he examined them – a pair of gold cufflinks, each adorned with a circle of mother-of-pearl that shone with the colors of the rainbow at every little shift of the light, and, in the middle, a golden letter "H".

"Darling, you are far too hard on yourself!" Harold exclaimed, leaning over to squeeze her hand in affection even as he continued to examine the cufflinks with the other. "How could you ever think that I would be any less than delighted to receive such a beautiful and thoughtful gift?"

Marian's face flushed with pride. "Oh, only because your gift was _so_ wonderful, I didn't know how mine would ever compare! Though these were a fortuitous find – I couldn't believe when I saw that these had your initial on them, just by chance. And the mother-of-pearl reminded me of the shells on the beach _and_ the instruments back home, so I thought they made a wonderfully fitting present for you. I'm afraid I hadn't thought so deeply about the symbolism of this gift beforehand like you did – but now I'm happy that I got something permanent for you, too, that I can use to make _my_ promises."

She felt a little shy all of a sudden trying to say the words – she knew that she could never really match Harold when it came to the artful expression of deep sentiments, and it didn't help that he'd already spoken _his_ first! Walking around the table to stand before him, she clasped his larger hands in her own and gazed into his eyes, trying to speak as directly from her heart as she could.

"So, when you wear these, I want you to remember the same sort of thing – that I, too, love you more than I ever have, and that you're still the only man I could ever want to be my husband and the father of my children. And – and that you deserve to be happy with me and our family, no matter how much you worry that you don't."

She saw his Adam's apple bob slightly, and he opened his mouth as if he meant to speak – but, overcome with emotion just as she had been, he found himself unable to do so. Instead, Harold pulled her into his arms and held her there on his lap, his strong hands stroking gently down her back.

"You're the best wife any man has ever had – I don't know that _anybody_ is good enough to deserve that," he whispered against her hair. "But I try. I've been trying since the moment I first realized that I loved you."

The rain had stopped by now, and moonlight streamed through the curtains to glint off Marian's jewelry – old and new. The way that Harold reverently traced his thumb along her wedding and engagement rings reminded her suddenly of their wedding day, or even the night he'd proposed to her, when he hadn't been able to stop doing that very thing. Somehow, this little unconscious action spoke just as much to her as his words had… He really was every bit as amazed that he had her love and devotion as he had been back then.

Even though she was curled up in his lap in a wooden desk chair, the librarian felt so perfectly comfortable and content that she could have fallen asleep just like that. Of course, she didn't want to, as she was far from done with the surprises that she'd planned for this night!

Remembering that, she slipped back over to the chest of drawers, Harold sighing petulantly in disappointment when she left his lap.

She looked back over her shoulder at him, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "I'm coming back, you know! But I have more than one surprise planned, just as you did."

Briefly, Marian considered taking out both of the remaining items she had hidden there, so she would not have to make another trip across the room – but she didn't want him to suspect anything ahead of time, so she retrieved only the second box.

When she returned, she laid it on the table between them. "I bought these, too, for us to share," she announced.

"Another gift? Why, you really are going to outdo me, after all."

"Really, it's nothing so special this time," the librarian said with a light laugh, lifting the lid to reveal that the box was filled with fancy chocolate truffles.

Harold leaned forward with a grin, looking as though he'd caught her red-handed. "Aha! It's a good thing that I never happened across whatever shop you'd bought these at – I would have had the same idea. I know your sweet tooth all too well, my dear!"

Marian blushed and had to stop herself from laughing out loud. _Oh, if that man had _any_ idea what his next surprise involved_… She practically had to bite her tongue to keep from betraying her thoughts.

"Don't pretend as if you won't enjoy them, too, Professor," she admonished teasingly at last, as she stepped back to her chair – or at least tried to.

"No, I want you back in my lap," Harold insisted, and he pulled her right into his arms with a playful growl. Not inclined to protest, the librarian snuggled eagerly into his embrace.

The music professor plucked a truffle from the box, and Marian was about to reach back and do the same when he surprised her by raising it to her lips instead of his own.

Catching on to his little game, she picked up another with a laugh and fed it to _him_ before biting into the candy that he'd presented to her. The chocolate was rich and decadent – even sensual in flavor – but perhaps even more delightful was the utterly silly way in which they were going about eating it, laughing and fumbling for a comfortable position in each other's arms.

After she'd finished the treat, Marian pointedly sucked the remaining hint of chocolate from his finger, giving him an impish gaze as she did so. She lingered there perhaps a bit longer than was necessary, teasingly caressing his finger with her lips and tongue.

Instantly, his expression transformed, and she could see from the intense heat in his eyes that he was no longer interested in the truffles. As soon as she'd released his finger from her lips, Harold finally closed the distance between them, his lips covering hers like _she_ was the only dessert he was craving. And somehow, the simple, familiar act of a sharing a deep, languid kiss became even more delightfully indulgent from the flavors of wine and chocolate that mingled between them. Shivering pleasantly, Marian felt a powerful twinge of desire run straight to the most intimate areas of her body.

Harold's strong, warm hands stroked up the back of her calves, and he let out a little murmur of approval to find her wearing nothing underneath her nightgown – a reaction that Marian found charming but a little absurd, seeing as it was rare for her to _ever_ wear drawers to bed anymore, never mind when she had dressed up in lingerie for him! Still, she certainly didn't mind the reminder that he still found intense excitement in every little detail of their intimate life, that no matter how many times they'd made love, it never grew routine or mundane.

He squeezed her bare backside appreciatively, giving her a pinch there that made her wriggle and laugh in his arms. "Why, Miss Marian, you little vixen. Here you told me that it wouldn't be right for me to wear nothing underneath my robe, yet _you_ seem to have forgotten your drawers."

"Yes – but we're both still wearing something under our robes, so I'd say that we're equally well-dressed."

"Overdressed is more like it," he declared as he slipped her peignoir from her shoulders and carelessly tossed it a few feet away. Giggling at his reckless enthusiasm, Marian matched his move by reaching down for the sash on _his_ robe.

They had to get up out of their chair to complete the process of undressing, of course. She had already thought quite a bit about how she planned for this to go – they would both need to be completely naked before she could carry out her plan without the risk of damaged garments. But, as they were only wearing nightclothes to begin with, that wouldn't take long at all. The only obstacle to getting undressed within seconds was the row of buttons on Harold's pajama shirt – as many hundreds of times as they'd undressed each other since their wedding night, Marian still could never manage to get his buttons open quite as quickly as she'd have liked!

As he felt her fingers fumbling at his chest, he smiled against her lips. "Do you wish _now_ that I'd worn nothing but the robe, darling?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," she laughed as she finally worked the last button free and slipped the shirt from his shoulders.

"Well, I can't wait to see you in nothing but that necklace," he murmured huskily, slipping the thin yellow nightgown down her body until it fell to her feet.

Naked except for the golden seashell, long hair draped all around her body, Marian felt marvelously alluring tonight, and, true to form, Harold didn't waste a single second in letting her know how he felt.

"Oh my God, Marian," he groaned, running his fingers through her silken blonde curls, cupping each breast in his hand and using the gentle motion of a thumb to tease at her nipples, slipping his hands down to her hips and backside and to explore the downy curls between her legs. "Don't scold me for it, please, because it's not a curse, it's a prayer. I'm grateful to God for creating such a good and loving and passionate and _beautiful_ woman as you, and for bringing her into my life and letting her be mine."

The librarian blushed and shook her head with a flustered little smile. "You say the strangest things when you've had wine."

He took her face in his hands and gazed into the depths of her hazel eyes, his expression ardent and utterly sincere. "Remember what you said to me not so long ago, my dear little librarian? _In vino veritas_."

As Marian's expression turned dreamy with intense adoration, Harold leaned down and captured her lips with his, tasting and tantalizing her and promising every wonderful thing in the world, pressing the full length of her body against his strong, masculine form – and with that, she was almost lost completely. She was sure that if she'd let him, he would have done a million exquisite, decadent things to her starting right then, that he'd have given her climax after climax using every creative position and technique that he knew and spent the entire time telling her how perfect she was, how much he loved her… but, somehow, Marian found the willpower to resist that invitation for just a little while longer.

First, _she_ was going to take the lead, and take it completely.

As she guided him back into the chair behind him, he followed her lead easily, probably expecting that she wanted him to make love to her right there – but she was planning to defy his expectations.

Lifting the sash of his robe from the floor where it lay, she used it to tie his hands behind his back and to the rungs of the chair, gently and carefully, with a knot that she was certain he could have easily escaped himself, if he'd been so inclined.

"Marian?" he inquired, and though his face was glowing with anticipation of whatever pleasure she had in mind, he also looked justly confused about this new situation.

Feeling guilty for a brief moment, she shrank back a little, biting her lip. "I should have asked you before I did that. Maybe that part of it was a bad decision – it doesn't remind you too much of, well, being handcuffed, does it?"

Harold let out a low laugh, his eyes traveling hungrily up and down her naked body. "My love, I can assure you that none of the times I was ever handcuffed bear _any_ resemblance to this situation. Well, except that the last time, you were there with me – but _not _like this."

"No, not at all," she whispered, climbing into his lap yet again – but unlike the other times she'd done this tonight, now they were perfectly, gloriously naked together, every sensitive inch of skin responding to every little movement they made.

The librarian could tell from the way that the muscles in his arms shifted that he'd instinctively moved to wrap his arms around her, forgetting that it was currently an impossibility. "So, are you going to tell me why you needed to tie me down?" he asked.

"Why, so I can have my way with you without you trying to distract me," she explained in a sultry voice, running her hand down his chest and across his firm abdomen.

"Is that so?" Even without the use of his hands, Harold aimed to prove that he was still fully capable of _distracting_ her, and, given their proximity, he was unable to resist caressing her body in one of his – and her – favorite ways by taking her breasts into his mouth.

Moaning, Marian arched her back against him, aching for more – between what he was doing to her and the incredible temptation of his hardness throbbing against her thigh, she once again wished that they could just let the moment take them away right then. But when he finally released her nipple from his mouth and paused in his ministrations to look up at her with a triumphant, ravenous grin, she marshaled her remaining shred of willpower yet again in order to stand back and place a finger on his lips.

"One. More. Thing," she assured him in response to the hint of frustration in his gaze. "You won't regret letting me get it – I _promise_."

"Well, at least I get to watch you," he called cheekily as she sauntered over to the drawer and retrieved the last of his surprises after tying up her hair with a ribbon to keep it out of her way – and though she shamelessly delighted in his avid gaze, Marian figured that she must have made a considerably less erotic picture once she turned around and he was aware of what a strangely prosaic item she was holding!

Standing before her husband, completely naked, with a bottle of chocolate syrup in her hand was perhaps one of the more ridiculous situations she had ever been in – it was really the thought of _this_ moment, more than the act itself, that had made her consider dropping the whole idea – but she tried to remain confident.

"Now you've really got me confused," said Harold – although she could have sworn that his eyes held a knowing gleam. "Mind telling me what that's for?"

"I'm going to – I'm going to – " She frowned, trying to figure out a way to describe it. "Well, for goodness' sake, you're an imaginative man, can't you figure it out?"

He shrugged, a devious grin on his face. "I have my suspicions. But I'd like to hear your motivation straight from you, I think."

"Let's say that I'm going to make you taste even better than you already do," she teased, perching on his knee – and, in demonstration, she placed a dollop of syrup on her finger and drew a little chocolate heart on his shoulder before following the sweet path with her tongue. "Do you approve?"

"You have to ask?" the music professor exclaimed with a laugh, shivering visibly at the feeling of her tongue against his skin. "Oh, I should have known this would happen eventually – you and your sweet tooth."

"Don't pretend you won't enjoy it, too." Marian echoed her words from a few minutes earlier with a distinctly more seductive tone as she painted an abstract pattern of swirls leading down his body. "As a matter of fact, I think it's you who will enjoy it most of all…"

Once she had him suitably worked up at the mere thought of what she might do, the librarian proceeded to embark on the decadent journey that she had marked out for herself, starting just below the hollow of his throat. With his hands tied back, there was nothing her husband could do except enjoy and react, and she loved nothing better than watching him do just that. To her surprise, the task of tasting the chocolate on his skin actually led Marian to consider his body in ways that she never would have before, when she generally only trailed light kisses straight down his abdomen before reaching her ultimate destination. Now, she had to give distinct attention to every part of his body that she passed over, feeling his heart pound, his breathing grow uneven, and each of his individual muscles flex as he writhed beneath her exploring mouth. It aroused her tremendously – so she could only imagine how _he _felt.

When she at last reached his erection, she could not resist continuing her game by playfully drawing a little path of chocolate syrup along his length before she enveloped him with her mouth. It wasn't as though she needed any additional incentive to give him her full and thorough attention _there_ – the delicious sounds he was making were more than reward enough, as was the look of near-pained ecstasy on his face as she coaxed him closer and closer to climax with her mouth and hands – but there was also a certain novel thrill to tasting the chocolate mingled with the familiar, alluring taste of him.

Something was missing, though. Pausing in her attentions for a short moment – causing him to groan softly in disappointment – she reached up and tugged at the loose knot tying his hands together until it came free.

"I missed your hands in my hair," she confessed, causing him to smile fondly at her even in the midst of his frenzied lust.

"Oh, it was driving me crazy not to be able to do this," Harold moaned as he wove his hands among her curls at last, a caress that was as close to an embrace as they could manage in this situation.

Marian gave him a brazen wink in reply. "I hope you don't think that I'm not still planning to drive you crazy, Professor…"

Lowering her head once again, she demonstrated her point with great enthusiasm. As he rocked his hips in rhythm with her ministrations and showered her with every sweet, near-incoherent word of adoration he could think of in his addled state, Marian delighted in bringing him right to the edge of madness, making him twist and strain above her, until, his hands tensing tightly in her hair, he utterly lost his mind to the joy of release, his hoarse cries of her name turning to one long, unbroken moan.

She sat on his knee again afterward, watching him recover from his delirium, and was charmed by the brilliant grin on his face that left no doubt of the wonderful sensations that were still coursing through his body – she found him so adorable when he grew blissfully woozy in the aftermath of his climax. When his breathing had finally slowed to a reasonable level and he could manage to open his eyes, Harold let out a long, contented sigh to see her so nearby, and he wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Remember what I said earlier, about how you're the best wife any man ever had?"

She giggled. "Of course I do."

"Well, I feel like that bears repeating right now." He placed a warm kiss upon her cheek, and Marian noticed with satisfaction that he was still trembling. "Next time we go to the Candy Kitchen, I can say with confidence that I won't be able to order anything with chocolate sauce if I want to maintain my composure… _What_ made you think to do a remarkable thing like that?"

The librarian bit her lip, not certain she could explain it. "I don't know. It was just a fantasy. I'd long thought that I, and you, of course, might enjoy it if I did something_ like that_, but I thought it might be too messy – that's why I kept us away from the bed! – or, well, too _wild_ of me. But since I've been here, I've realized that the more wonderful experiences we can have, the better, and I shouldn't shy away from them for foolish reasons. It was all a part of expanding my horizons, I suppose. I'm determined not to hold back from anything that will bring us happiness, no matter how it might seem in the eyes of those who will never know about it, anyway! I saw that chocolate syrup for sale, and all of a sudden, I could only think of what a wonderful surprise I could plan for you." Feeling mischievous, she gently nibbled on his earlobe before whispering, "Or maybe it was my sweet tooth."

The whole time she'd been speaking, Harold's eyes had burned with intense love, affection and pride – the same sort of look he'd given her when he'd told her how he was impressed by her bravery in trying the wine, or her moment she'd declared her resolve before their tryst on the beach.

"You really are something, you know that?" he exclaimed, smoothing her golden hair behind her ear, his other hand toying absentmindedly with her seashell pendant. "I'm so amazed by the way I've watched you blossom – I remember the days when you thought that even to desire me was a sin."

She smiled, knowing exactly the conversation he had been referring to. "Well, I know much more now. I know from experience that what you told me that day is true – there's no sin between a husband and wife who love each other and want to express it in whichever way they choose. It would only be wrong if we _didn't_ want each other to be happy."

"Speaking of which... you've been so marvelously generous tonight that we haven't even gotten around to _your_ pleasure. I don't think that's quite fair," he murmured, his hands finding their way between her legs and seeking out the luscious wetness he knew he would find there.

Marian had fully intended to insist on a bath before they did absolutely anything else, but Harold had a remarkable way of weakening her resolve. And she had very little of it to begin with right now, because although she had greatly enjoyed giving him such satisfaction, her own arousal had grown almost unbearable by now, and even the first touch of his fingers made her tremble and cry out.

She wondered for a moment if he might want to use the chocolate syrup on _her _body – but, fortunately, he knew how wound up she already was and did not seek to tease her. Lifting her up in his arms, her husband laid her back on the bed and knelt on the floor with her legs draped over his shoulders, using his hands and mouth to express his gratitude in the _very_ nicest way. After she'd spent so long denying herself to attend to him, every stroke of his tongue against her was sheer relief, enough almost to make her weep with pleasure. She surrendered herself completely, letting herself sink into both the bed and the sensations, until she was finally overwhelmed and could feel nothing but bliss throughout every fiber of her being.

"There you go," he whispered, drawing her into his arms and stroking her face and hair as her cries tapered off into soft mewls. As she slowly came back to herself, Marian gazed up at her beloved with a radiant smile.

"You're wonderful," she told him, sighing dreamily. "I love you so much, darling."

"I love you every bit as much," Harold assured her, his voice low and smooth. "And I'm going to show you, over and over."

As he began to pull her body flush against his, however, the librarian was suddenly aware that he was still sticky from the chocolate syrup, and she pushed away from him, leaving him momentarily dumbfounded.

"No! Absolutely nothing else until we've had a bath!" she declared in a fit of giggles. "Do you want us to stick together?"

"Figuratively – _not _literally," the music professor laughed. "But we can still have the bath _together_, can't we?"

Marian smiled and gently tapped the tip of his nose. "Absolutely."

"Well, that's its own kind of fun, isn't it?" he remarked as they climbed to their feet and made their way toward the washroom. "The only disappointment is that now I have to wait longer to make love to you properly. The bathtub isn't exactly made for that!"

She looked up at him, glowing with mischief and renewed excitement. "True, but remember that we can keep each other up all night of we want to – it's not as if we have work tomorrow, or anytime soon."

As they prepared to clean up the remnants of her wild idea, Marian realized that what Harold had said before was entirely true – she wasn't going to ever be able to look at chocolate syrup the same way again!

But maybe, the next time they went out for ice cream at one of the seaside shops, she might have some anyway. After all, she was learning that there was no better way to dispel her little anxieties than to confront them head-on…

And she _needed _to be able to sit in the Candy Kitchen without blushing by the time they returned home.


End file.
